The Faded Chronicle
The glass was cold. It sat on the table, a thick, ugly thing. A paperweight. It held down the map. The map was old. It showed the valley. The valley was green. But the green was gone. The valley was gray now. Leo sat in the chair. He was small. He was ten. His knees touched the table. He looked at the glass. He touched it. It hummed. A low hum. Like a bee trapped in a jar. His father was not...
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