The Faded Road

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2026-08-18 06:48:58 -

The Faded Road

The air in the Great Hall of the Blackwood Consortium tastes of iron filings and old dust, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat and refuses to be swallowed, as if the very atmosphere has been poisoned by centuries of unspoken grievances and the slow, calcifying weight of institutional pride. You stand before the High Steward, a man whose face is a topography of deep, unwavering...

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