The Faded Frontier
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the streets of Millhaven into a network of sluggish, brown rivers, and the air inside the community center smelled of wet wool and the sharp, metallic tang of old fear. I stood by the heavy oak doors, watching the water bead and run down the glass, my badge a cold iron weight against my chest, a reminder of the...
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