The Distant Garden
The rain at Blackwood Manor did not wash things clean; it merely made the mud stickier, turning the gravel courtyard into a slick, grey trap that sucked at the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots. He stood in the center of the yard, the ledger clutched against his chest like a shield, watching Magistrate Halloway step down from the porch with the slow, deliberate grace of a man who owned the air...
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