The Faded Chronicle
The oak tree in the center of the garden was dying. It stood in the middle of the courtyard, its bark peeling away in long, dry strips that looked like skin sloughing off a sick animal. Elias sat at the base of the trunk. He was twelve years old, though he felt much older, heavy with a silence that had settled into his bones since the war began. His hands were stained green with sap and dark...
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