The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-17 18:21:55 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain fell in sheets. It drummed against the leather hood of the carriage, a rhythmic, mechanical tapping that seemed to count down the seconds before arrival. Elias Vane sat in the back, his spine rigid. He was a man made of angles and old scars. His hands, wrapped in black gloves, rested on his knees. They were steady. They had to be steady. Elias was a warden. Or so the village called...

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