The Faded Bouquet

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2026-08-17 23:23:28 -

The Faded Bouquet

The rain did not fall so much as it hung, a grey curtain woven from the breath of the dead. Inside the stone chapel, the air was thick with the scent of wet wool and old iron. Thomas stood alone in the narthex, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. It was a heavy weight, a familiar ache in his palm, the kind that spoke of duty long before it spoke of pain. He was the Keeper of the...

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