The Faded Road
The air in the Great Hall tastes of copper and wet wool, thick enough to choke on, yet you breathe it in with the greed of a man who has forgotten how to starve. You are here, in this impossible, sprawling cathedral of glass and iron that defies the gravity of the world outside, because Elias said you had to be. He said the harvest of souls required a witness, and you, Thomas Bradshaw, the last...
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