The Faded River
You stand at the edge of the gray water, the mist clinging to your uniform like a shroud that has no weight. It is an ancient place, this river, older than the stone walls that encircle the village, older than the kings who carved their names into the bedrock and forgot to carve their hearts. You are a soldier, though the word feels ill-fitting now, a relic of a life that feels like it happened...
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