The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-17 11:07:34 -

The soup had turned into a grey sludge, thick with the sediment of forgotten hours. Elias sat in the corner of the tavern, his fingers tracing the rim of his wooden bowl, a nervous habit that had never quite faded despite the years. The air in the Hall of Whispers was stale, smelling of damp wool and old candles, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a persistent cough. He was a...

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