The Faded Dust
The wall was old. Older than the men who walked its shadow. It stood at the edge of the compound, a slab of grey stone that had absorbed centuries of rain and silence. Elias sat on the cold ground, his back against the rough masonry. He did not look up. He was waiting. Or perhaps he was hiding. In the end, the distinction felt academic. The air smelled of wet iron and old paper. Inside the...
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