The Wistful Cipher
Chapter One The delta wakes before the sun, a sprawl of floating markets where the water is brown and the air smells of diesel and rotting fruit. Here, the boats do not move by whim but by the rigid schedule of the tide and the ledger of the merchant houses that hold the community’s credit in their hands. It is a place where silence is a currency, and speaking out of turn is a debt you pay with...
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