The Faded Apartment
The rain had ceased its weeping against the leaded panes of the tower, leaving only the heavy, wet silence of the old world, a silence that pressed against the skin like the cold hands of the dead, while the air inside the stone room grew thick with the scent of damp wool and ancient dust, a smell that Elias Thorne knew as well as he knew the rhythm of his own failing breath, for he had spent...
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