The Faded River
The dream is always the same: the Vael River, not water, but a sheet of black glass, unbroken and absolute. I wake with the taste of iron in my mouth, the clock on the nightstand ticking at 4:00 AM. I am Elias Thorne, a senior cartographer for the Department of Public Works, and I have three days to complete the final survey of the Vael before my pension is secured. The opposing force is not...
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