The Faded Apartment
The dream began, as it always did, with the sound of wet earth being torn open by iron teeth. Silas Kael did not see the trench, not at first, but he felt the suction of it, a cold, wet mouth pulling at the hem of his tunic. He was standing on the ridge above the valley of St. Jude’s, a place that no longer existed on any map drawn by the Crown, but lived on in the marrow of his bones and the...
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