The Wistful Saga
The market in the Oaxacan valley hummed with the commerce of the dead, where vendors sold dried chilies and cracked wagon axles wired together with copper, and the air smelled of sulfur and old paper before Veronica Valenzuela stepped from the shadow of the packet ship’s stern. She was thirty years old, an archivist in the service of the High Chancellor, and she wanted only to keep her position...
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