The Faded Shield
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the old market square into slick, black mirrors reflecting the hollowed-out faces of the townspeople, and Thomas Ashworth, the master glassblower whose lungs were slowly turning to stone, walked with a cane that tapped out a rhythm against the wet stone, a sound that seemed too loud, too...
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