The Distant Garden

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2026-08-23 12:01:45 -

The paper was thin, translucent as onion skin, and it smelled of iron filings and damp earth. I held it under the gaslight, the blue flame hissing against the draft, and read the words again. *Arthur Penhaligon, Junior Clerk. Indictment: Theft of Estate Ledger.* My hand trembled, not from fear, but from the cold that seemed to rise through the floorboards, a chill that had no source in the air....

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