The Wistful Crossroads
The badge hangs heavy in your left hand, a cold slab of brass that feels less like metal and more like a dead weight of lead, and you turn it over, watching the light catch the engraved initials, OTD, for Oakhaven Town Division, while the ink beneath your fingernails pulses with a wet, black urgency that smells of iron and burnt sugar. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and you have...
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