The Faded Paradox
The iron bit of the sword bit deep into the shoulder of the man who wore the white coat. Caelan did not cry out. He only watched the blood well up, dark and hot, soaking the pristine wool of the tunic. The man fell. The crowd held its breath. In the square, the silence was a heavy thing, a physical weight that pressed against Caelan’s eardrums. He stood alone in the center of the cobblestones....
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