The Faded Portrait
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a cold, gray veil that blurred the boundary between the living world and the silence beyond it. Elias Thorne walked, his boots sinking into the mud of the coastal moor, the weight of his armor a familiar second skin that had long since ceased to be a burden and become instead a part of his very flesh. He was not a young man anymore. The years...
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