The Faded Apartment
The old oak in the center of the courtyard did not sway; it trembled, a low-frequency shudder that traveled up through the soles of Silas’s boots and into the marrow of his knees, as if the tree were holding its breath against a tide of centuries. Silas stood at the edge of the stone terrace, his hands resting on the hilt of a sword that was more memory than metal, the leather grip worn smooth...
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