The Faded Root
The rain fell in sheets, turning the perimeter of the detention center into a slurry of mud and rust. Elias Thorne walked the line, his boots sinking with every step, the fabric of his uniform jacket fraying at the cuffs until the threads hung loose like dead vines. He was fifty years old, and his lungs felt like they were filled with wet sand. He coughed, a violent, rattling fit that bent him...
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