The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-18 22:37:49 -

The mist hangs low over the soot-blackened streets of Bristol, thick as wet wool, and you are running, your lungs burning with the taste of iron and coal dust. You do not know why you are running. You only know that the weight in your chest is a living thing, a heavy, bruised plum of pain that beats in time with your heart. It is a Tuesday, perhaps, or a Thursday; the days have bled together in...

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