The Faded Frontier
The rain did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent, grey mist that clung to the wool of Elias Thorne’s coat and seeped into the marrow of his bones. He stood at the edge of the old quarry, a vast, silent wound in the side of the hill where the granite had once been torn away, leaving behind a basin of water so still and dark it seemed less like a liquid than a pool of solidified...
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