The Faded Guest
The rain hits the mud like a fist. You are on your knees. Your uniform is soaked, heavy, clinging to your ribs like a second skin of rot. You are fighting the earth. The soil is black, slick, and it wants to swallow you. You dig. Your fingers bleed. The blood mixes with the water and the dirt. It is a thick, dark paste. You are a soldier. You are a warden. You are the law in a place where the...
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