The Faded Road
You are standing in the middle of a banquet that does not belong to you, where the silverware is tarnished with the patina of centuries that have no names and the food on the plates is composed of light and shadow and the faint, cloying sweetness of regret, and you are holding a small, cold stone in your hand that feels like it is trying to escape your grip, pulsing with a rhythm that is not...
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