The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 11:26:07 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain had not stopped for three days. It drummed against the black glass of the carriage windows, a relentless, monotonous rhythm that felt less like weather and more like an accusation. I sat in the back, my uniform pressed and cold against my chest, the silver badge on my belt catching the dim light of the streetlamps as we wound through the misty streets of the capital. My name is Elias...

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