the garden
You find yourself in a decrepit garden, perched at the edge of the world. The smell of salt wafts from the endless ocean and many faint memories scatter about in the air like the most fragile of butterflies.
I am the witch, the witch that has been, will be, and must be. This place of erosion is my domain, where I am bound to watch the birth and death of infinity. Perhaps you too can find a purpose within this lost garden.
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