The Faded Road
The ink bled again. I watched the dark vein spread across the parchment, a slow hemorrhage of black that defied the dryness of the room. It was not a stain; it was a face. Another one. The eyes were hollow, the mouth open in a silent, frozen scream. I pulled my hand back, my fingers trembling, the cold air of the archive biting into the joints of my knuckles. I am Elias Thorne, Senior...
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