The Distant Garden
The dampness in Oth was not a weather condition but a physiological fact, a persistent exhalation from the stone itself that settled into the lungs and refused to leave. Elias Vane woke to the sound of Mara’s cough, a wet, rattling expulsion that brought up not phlegm but a fine dust of black spores, which drifted down onto the white linen of their bed like soot from a burnt candle. He sat up,...
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