The Faded Road
The mud of the borderlands sucked at Elias’s boots with a wet, relentless hunger. He stood knee-deep in the brown slurry, his twelve-year-old frame shivering not from the cold but from the low, pervasive static that hummed in his teeth. In his left hand, he clutched a withered foxglove, its purple bells shriveled into brown husks, a fragile anchor to the only home he had ever known. Across the...
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