The Faded Road
The rain has stopped, but the air still tastes of iron and wet ash, a metallic tang that clings to the back of your throat like a bad memory. You are walking. You have been walking for three days, your boots heavy with the mud of the valley, your hands raw and bleeding from the chains that are no longer there, yet whose weight you feel dragging against your wrists. The road ahead is a ribbon of...
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