The Faded Ruin
14th of the Month, Year 9 of the Silence The crack in the obsidian ran like a vein of black blood across the surface, pulsing in time with my own arrhythmia. I am Elias Thorne, fifty-two, a Warden in the Silent Zone, and I have spent the last six hours trying to smooth the edge of this fracture with a whetstone, my hands trembling not from cold, but from the terrifying syncopation of my heart....
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