The Faded River

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2026-08-18 21:19:49 -

The Faded River

The fog did not roll in; it stood up. I remember the sound of it, a wet, heavy tearing, like silk being pulled across a razor. We were on the ridge, the ironworks below us glowing with a sickly, arterial red, the smoke from the furnaces rising into the grey nothingness above. Thomas was beside me. He was shivering, not from the cold, though the air had turned to ice, but from a fear that seemed...

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