The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-19 16:31:49 -

The carriage wheel bites into the mud. It is a black, sucking sound. You feel it in your teeth. The rain hammers the roof. It is a constant, rhythmic assault. You are in the back. The seat is wet. Your cloak is soaked through. You do not move. You are the Inquisitor. Your name is not spoken. It is a shadow. You are the tool of the Order. You hunt the heretic. You hunt the liar. You hunt the...

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