The Pale Shadows
The rain in Oakhaven did not wash things clean; it merely made the grime slicker, turning the cobblestones into mirrors of mud and rot. Elias Thorne walked through the downpour, his coat heavy with the water, feeling the dampness seep into his bones, a cold that matched the hollow ache in his chest. He carried no umbrella, for he had long since learned that sheltering from the world only made...
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