The Faded Dust
The iron gauntlet of the night was already clenched around the throat of the valley, a suffocating embrace of fog and silence that seemed to swallow the very sound of Thomas Bradshaw’s breathing as he stood, bloodied and trembling, before the ancient, rotting gate of the estate that had once belonged to his father, the man who had taught him that the world was a mechanism of gears and levers,...
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