The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-23 02:14:15 -

The Distant Ghost

The rot in the White Oak began as a whisper, a faint discoloration at the base of the trunk that no amount of pruning could explain. I am Elias, a city archivist, and I have spent the last six months fighting a war on two fronts: the municipal records office by day, and the dying body of my father by night. I believe, with a conviction that borders on the pathological, that the vitality of the...

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