The Faded Root

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2026-08-20 15:33:19 -

The Faded Root

"The root is gone, Mr. Harrow. I pulled it up with my own hands. It was brittle. Like old bone. It crumbled in my grip." I looked at the man. His name was Silas. He stood in the doorway of the assay office, mud caked on his boots, his face a mask of soot and sweat. The air in the room smelled of ozone and stale tea. I held the magnifying loupe to my eye. The lens was scratched. Everything...

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