The Pale Echo
You have always believed that memory is a thing you carry, a stone in your pocket that grows heavier with every mile, but the fog has taught you otherwise. Here, in the grey expanse of the moor, memory does not sit; it floats, untethered and pale, drifting away from the body like smoke from a extinguished candle. You are a man who has spent his life chasing shadows, a detective of the...
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