The Faded Portrait
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended curtain of grey mist that blurred the boundaries between the cobblestones of the village square and the jagged, indifferent peaks of the mountains that rose behind the stone cottages, a silence so profound it seemed to vibrate against the eardrums with the weight of centuries, and it was into this thick, breathing quiet that Elias...
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