The Faded Dust
The first crack appeared on Mara’s left index finger, a hairline fracture in the skin that bled not red, but a fine, gray powder. Elias Thorne watched the dust settle on the stone floor of the debt-prisoners’ block, his heart hammering against his ribs with the dull, heavy rhythm of a man who has seen too many winters and not enough hope. He was thirty, a captain in the High Warden’s guard, a...
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