The Pale Banner
The iron gate groans against the frost as you pull it shut behind you, a sound like a bone snapping in the quiet night air. You are running, or at least you are trying to, but the snow is deep and the ground is treacherous, sliding beneath your boots in a way that feels like the earth itself is trying to swallow you whole. In your hands, you clutch the artifact, a cylinder of polished brass and...
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