The Faded Guest
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the streets of Ashford into a slurry of grey mud and coal dust. Thomas stood at the window of the Institute for Anomalous Resonance, watching the water streak down the glass in long, trembling lines. He was twelve, though he carried himself with the heavy, slumped shoulders of a man who had seen too much. His uniform, a stiff wool tunic the color...
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