The Faded River

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2026-08-20 11:16:38 -

The Faded River

You wake not to the sound of rain, but to the weight of silence. It presses against your eardrums, a physical thing, thick and cold as river silt. You are standing on a bank that should not exist. The water below is black, still, and utterly devoid of reflection. It does not ripple. It does not breathe. You look down at your hands. They are caked in mud, but the mud is the color of ash. You are...

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