The Faded Road
The mist did not merely sit upon the valley of Ashwick; it breathed, a slow, tidal exhalation of damp and rot that turned the ancient oak trees into the silhouettes of drowning men, and within this suspended grayness, young Elias Thorne stood at the threshold of the family manor, his hands trembling not from the biting cold of the autumn evening but from the peculiar, heavy silence that had...
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