The Faded Root
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the village square into a mirror of the bruised sky, and it was through this wet, weeping veil that Thomas Bradshaw walked, his boots heavy with the mud of a world that seemed to be slowly dissolving into the earth, carrying with him the weight of a question that had no answer and the memory of a...
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