The Faded Root
Chapter One What is a map if not a promise that the world will hold its shape? Ignacio Herrera asked the question aloud to the smoke, which did not answer, only curled around his neck like a cold hand. He stood in the ruins of the border town, the air thick with the acrid taste of burnt olive wood and gunpowder, the light of a still noon pressing down on the debris with the weight of a physical...
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