The Faded Frontier
The black sap oozed from the skirting board with the slow, deliberate rhythm of a heartbeat, staining the white oak floor of the hallway in a viscous, iridescent smear. Elias Thorne, forty-two and hollowed out by three years of isolation, watched the stain spread toward the base of the antique mirror that stood against the far wall. He did not flinch, though his hand trembled as he reached for...
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