The Faded River
The tower stood. It was a monolith of grey concrete. It did not move. It did not rot. It was the only constant. Elias stood before it. He was alone. The wind cut through his coat. He did not shiver. He had forgotten how to shiver. His name was Elias Thorne. He was a man of the law. Or he had been. Now he was just a shape. A shape in a uniform. The uniform was old. The fabric was thin. The...
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