The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-22 13:59:02 -

The year is 1347, and the air in Oakhaven tastes of rot. I am Elias, a scribe of thirty years, and I have not slept in three nights. The object sits in my study, a canvas stretched over wood, depicting a face so blurred by time and varnish that it seems less like a man and more like a stain. It is the Faded Portrait. It whispers my name. Not a word, but a vibration in the back of my throat, a...

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