The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-20 15:28:36 -

The iron in the bell tower rang not for the hour, but for the end of the world, or at least, for the end of my understanding of it. I stood in the narrow, rain-slicked lane of Oakhaven, the mud sucking at the heels of my boots, and watched the sky above the town split open with a light that was not sunlight. It was a pale, sickly luminescence, like the glow of a phosphorescent fungus growing in...

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