The Wistful Saga
Chapter One The settlement on the lake breathed in the rhythm of the tides, a sprawling network of wooden piers and cypress swamps where the water ran the color of weak tea. Here, the air tasted of pine resin and damp wool, and the only sound that mattered was the creak of the surveyor’s brass compass against the registry ledger, a sound Halina Nowicki knew better than her own heartbeat. She...
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