The Faded Road
The sky tore open above the ridge of black pine, not with lightning, but with a silence so heavy it cracked the bones of the earth. You stood in the center of the clearing, your uniform damp with sweat and the metallic tang of ozone, the heavy brass of your badge cold against your chest. It was a Tuesday. Or it felt like one. The air smelled of crushed ferns and old blood, a scent that belonged...
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