The Faded Frontier
The rain in the Blackwood Valley does not fall; it presses, a wet, heavy hand against the skin, and you stand in the mud of the abandoned mill, your boots sinking into the slurry of rot and iron, clutching a vial of black honey that glows with a faint, sickly luminescence. You are Elias Thorne, a surveyor by trade and a beggar by circumstance, and you are here because your wife, Mara, is...
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