The Faded Road
The road was not a line on a map but a living, breathing thing that had grown teeth, and Elias Thorne knew this with the bone-deep certainty of a man who had spent forty years measuring the distance between one point of suffering and the next, for he was a cartographer of the invisible, a man who drew the borders of grief in ink that smelled of iron and old rain, and as he stood now on the...
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