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The Weaver's Dust pexels photo 32937947 2

The Weaver’s Dust

## The Weaver’s Dust The wind tasted of iron and regret. Elara pressed a hand to her throat, the gritty film clinging stubbornly. Another day bleeding through the village of Briarwood. Thirty-two days since the miasma first rolled in, a…

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The Serpent’s Spine pexels photo 2678374 2

The Serpent’s Spine

## The Serpent’s Spine The salt spray tasted like betrayal. Lin, barely nineteen and masquerading as a junior cartographer’s assistant, clung to the railing of the *Yongle*, watching the Java Sea bleed into a bruised sunset. He wasn’t charting currents,…

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