The Faded River
The ink is bleeding off the parchment, Elias, and you are watching it happen with the helpless fascination of a man watching a house burn, though the fire here is cold and silent, eating the words rather than the wood. It is the winter solstice of 1893, and the city of Oakhaven is buried under a snow so thick it muffles the very sound of your own breathing, but inside the cramped, suffocating...
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