The Faded Paradox

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2026-08-20 00:40:22 -

The Faded Paradox

The rain in Oakhaven did not wash the town clean; it merely slicked the cobblestones, making them shine like wet obsidian, a mirror for the rot beneath. I stood in the archway of the old guardhouse, my uniform buttoned to the chin, the brass cold against my throat. My hands, usually steady enough to steady a rifle in a gale, were trembling. Not from fear. From the sheer, crushing weight of what...

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