The Faded Frontier
The moss grew thick on the stone walls. It was a deep, bruised green, silent and cold. You lived in the cellar. You had always lived in the cellar. The air smelled of damp earth and old iron. You knew the texture of the floor beneath your knees. You knew the rhythm of the water dripping from the ceiling. It fell with a steady, hollow sound. Each drop echoed in the dark. Above you, the world...
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