The Faded Quadrant
The rain had not stopped in three days. It fell with a persistent, gray indifference that soaked the wool of Elias’s coat and chilled the marrow of his bones. He walked the pathless scrubland, the mud sucking at his boots with a wet, visceral sound that seemed to echo inside his own skull. In his left hand, clutched tight against the damp fabric of his sleeve, he held the small, velvet pouch....
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