The Distant Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 21:58:45 -

The ink was still wet on the final line of the King’s decree, a black smear under my thumb that felt like dried blood, when the shadow detached itself from the wall. It did not move like a shadow should. It slid, independent of the light source, across the parchment and up my forearm, whispering in a voice like dry leaves skittering on stone. I am Elias. I am forty. I am a scribe to the Crown....

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