The Distant Garden

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2026-08-24 02:15:49 -

The High Court of the City smelled of damp stone and old blood, a scent that Elias Thorne had inhaled for twenty years until it became the very air he breathed. He stood before the bench, his spine rigid as a rifle stock, staring at the ceremonial mask of the Chief Magistrate, a porcelain oval with no mouth, only eyes that seemed to track the movement of flies. The crowd in the gallery was a...

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