The Faded Road
The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell on the grey slate of the observatory roof with a persistent, rhythmic hush, a sound that had seeped into the very mortar of the building, into the bones of the instruments, and finally into Elias Thorne. He stood by the window, his hand resting on the cold glass, watching the mist swallow the hills below. The air in the room was thick, heavy with...
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