The Faded Frontier
The mud of the lowland marshes clings to your boots like a second skin, thick and cold, sucking at the heels with a wet, rhythmic pull that matches the slowing of your own heart. You stand at the edge of the King’s estate, the rain a fine, grey mist that blurs the line between the earth and the sky, and you watch the gatehouse where your life is tethered to a duty you no longer understand. For...
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