The Faded Quadrant
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world and turned the muddy roads into rivers of brown sludge, and I stood in the doorway of the old manor house, my boots caked in earth, watching the water drip from the eaves in a rhythm that sounded less like weather and more like the ticking of a clock counting down to an inevitable end. "You are...
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