The Faded Frontier
The letter was heavy, the paper thick and cream-colored, smelling faintly of the dried lavender and chamomile that Mara had crushed into the mortar three days before she disappeared. You held it in your left hand, the ink still damp, while your right hand gripped the wooden crate. The crate was rough-hewn, banded with iron, and it weighed more than it should have, a dense gravity that pulled at...
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