The Faded Frontier
You hold the seal. It is heavy. Cold iron. Etched with a lion. The lion has no eyes. You do not blink. The air tastes of copper and rust. You are in the Hall of Judgment. It is not a hall. It is a lung. The walls breathe. Steam rises from the floor. It is thick. It is white. It hides your feet. You are a Keeper. The highest rank. You hold the Truth. Or so they say. The Truth is a lie. The lie...
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