The Faded Dust
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old mill district into a slick, treacherous mosaic of black and white, and it was through this soaking, cold mist that Elias Thorne walked, his heavy wool coat damp and clinging to his shoulders like a second skin that he could not shake off, carrying the weight of his own silence in his...
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