The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-23 12:32:23 -

The steam hissed against the iron walls of the boiler room, a sound like a dying animal. I stood before the Faded Portrait, the glass dark and wet with condensation. In its surface, my face was not my own. It was a corpse’s, pale and bloated, eyes sunken into hollows of absolute void. "Did you push her?" the glass whispered. The voice was not sound; it was a pressure in the teeth, a cold draft...

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