The Faded Frontier
The river was high, a swollen vein of grey water cutting through the valley of Ashenmoor. It had been raining for three days, a persistent, cold drizzle that turned the mud into a sucking pit and the air into a heavy, metallic weight. Captain Elias Thorne stood on the bank, his boots sinking slightly with every shift of weight. He watched the current churn against the willow trees, their leaves...
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