The Faded Shield
"Look at it," the old man said. His voice was like gravel rolling in a dry stream. "It is not a shield. It is a mirror. And you are breaking it." Elias did not look up. His hands were buried in the mud of the trench, wet and cold to the bone. He was a scholar of histories that no longer existed, a keeper of words in a world that had forgotten how to speak them. But here, in the grey mist of the...
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