The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-23 12:15:05 -

The wool of the tunic is damp against your cheek, smelling of sweat and the metallic tang of fear, as you press your back against the cold stone of the cliff face, listening to the thunderous clatter of hooves echoing off the valley floor. You are Elias, a weaver of forty years, and your hands, which have spent two decades twisting flax and wool into intricate patterns for the merchant houses...

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