The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-22 04:03:42 -

The rain falls on the moor not as water but as a fine, gray ash, settling into the crevices of your boots and the hollows of your weary bones. You are walking, and you have been walking for a time that feels both shorter than an hour and longer than a century, the distance between the stone cairn behind you and the darkening treeline ahead having dissolved into a single, endless stretch of mud...

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