The Faded Ruin
The rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the gray, swollen belly of the sky, a continuous, wet sigh that saturated the cobblestones of the Grand Corridor and seeped into the marrow of my bones as I walked the long, endless line of the procession, my hands bound not by rope but by the invisible, heavy weight of expectation, my fingers still stained with the iridescent, viscous black of...
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