The Faded Road
Elias Vane’s hand shook as he held the quill, the ink trembling on the tip before it touched the parchment. The rain outside the municipal archive window drummed a relentless, wet rhythm against the glass, a sound that had become the only constant in his life since the accident. He was thirty-four years old, an archivist of modest rank, and he was terrified of his own reflection in the wet...
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