The Faded Ruin
The house stood at the edge of the cul-de-sac like a tooth extracted from a jaw that had forgotten how to smile, its windows dark and unblinking under the perpetual, rain-slicked twilight of the city. Elias Thorne stood on the porch, the wet wood groaning softly beneath the weight of his boots, listening to the silence that was not actually silent but rather filled with a low, electric hum that...
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