The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-17 18:27:45 -

The rain did not fall so much as it was extracted from the sky by a slow, grinding force, each drop striking the cobblestones of the Market of Whispers with the weight of a finality you had long since forgotten how to name. You stood at the edge of the stall, your fingers buried in the damp wool of the great cloak that hung from the iron hook, the fabric fraying at the hem where the threads had...

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