The Faded Paradox
The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the wool of Elias Thorne’s coat and turned the cobblestones of the High Street into a slick, treacherous mirror. Elias, thirty-two years old and carrying the physical weight of fifteen years’ service in his aching knees, bent low to pick up a silver locket from the mud near the bridge, the metal warm...
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