The Faded Frontier
The bell tolls. It does not chime. It thuds. A heavy, wet sound, like a heart beating against stone. You are on your knees. The floor is cold. It bites into your shins. You do not care. The cold is good. The cold is real. You are a Warden. You wear the grey. The fabric is rough. It scratches your neck. You have worn it for ten years. Ten years of silence. Ten years of watching the gate. The...
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