The Faded Shield
The fog in Oakhaven does not roll in; it seeps up from the river, a cold, wet breath that clings to the joints of the bridge you have spent three years retrofitting. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a structural engineer whose hands tremble not from the chill but from the knowledge that the final payment is three weeks overdue. You stand on the catwalk, the wind whipping your coat, while the...
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