The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-22 23:57:15 -

The silver sap is the only thing left that smells of iron. "Drink it," Silas said. His voice was a wet, grinding sound, like gravel shifting under a boot. "Drink it, Elias. Before the cold sets in." I looked at the vial in his hand. It was small, no larger than my thumb, filled with a liquid that shimmered like oil on water. The air in the tent was thick, heavy with the scent of rotting canvas...

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