The Faded Shield

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2026-08-18 03:42:11 -

The Faded Shield

The hall smelled of stale wine and damp wool. It was a grand space, the kind of place where echoes die before they can find a window. We were gathered there for the annual assembly, a ritual of glass and steel that felt less like a meeting and more like a funeral for the living. I sat in the back row, my hands folded in my lap, watching the dust motes dance in the shafts of light that cut...

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