The Faded Portrait
The ink on your collar is not drying; it is breathing, a slow, rhythmic pulse that syncs with the heavy, metallic thud of the gates closing behind you at the Obsidian Citadel. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a border patrol commander who has spent fifteen years guarding the perimeter of this modern fortress, a place where the stone walls do not merely hold back the world but bleed a...
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