The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-20 14:34:08 -

The Faded Bouquet

The train cut through the grey mist. Mara held the ticket. It was torn. The ink bled. She looked at the window. The world blurred. Outside, the moors stretched. Dark. Vast. Her hands shook. Not from cold. From fear. She was an investigator. Or so they said. The letter had called her that. *Specialist in Structural Integrity.* A polite term for a grave robber of secrets. The conductor passed. He...

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