The Faded Paradox
The rain did not fall so much as it materialized from the grey, bruised sky, a fine, persistent mist that clung to the wool of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s coat and seeped into the marrow of his bones. He stood at the edge of the cliff, the wind tearing at the hem of his jacket, while below him the black churning waters of the Atlantic hammered against the jagged rocks with a rhythm that felt less...
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