The Faded Guest
The leather of the gauntlets had long since lost its supple give, cracking under the pale, indifferent light of the high window as Elias Vane adjusted the straps around his forearms, a ritual of preparation that felt less like armor and more like the shrouds of a man who had already died in the mind of the Crown. He stood in the shadow of the great hall, the stone cold against his back,...
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