The Faded Frontier
The wind that blew through the valley of Oakhaven did not merely rustle the leaves of the ancient sycamores but seemed to peel them back, layer by fragile layer, revealing the raw, pale wood beneath as if the trees were slowly shedding their skin to reveal the bone structure of the world, a process that the locals had long since ceased to discuss in polite company but which lingered in the...
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