The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-20 22:37:12 -

The cold bit into Elias’s knuckles. He rubbed them together. The pain was sharp. A good pain. It meant he was still there. Still alive. He sat in the stone cell. The walls were damp. Moss grew in the cracks. It looked like green veins. Elias watched a single drop of water fall. It hit the floor. A small splash. Silence followed. He was the inquisitor. Not a soldier. A man of the book. He wore...

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