The Faded Dust

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2026-08-23 15:45:21 -

The Faded Dust

The banquet hall in the Oakhaven Mill smelled of roasted pork, stale beer, and the sharp, metallic tang of the river smoke that never quite cleared from the November air. Elias Thorne stood at the head of the long mahogany table, his hands resting flat on the polished wood, his knuckles white as he fought the urge to wipe the dust from his forearms. He was forty-five, a man carved from the same...

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