The Faded Shield
The ink did not dry. It bled into the grain of the oak, a dark, wet wound in the center of the table. Elias stared at it. The symbol was simple, a shield with a star in the middle, but to him, it looked like a bruise. It was the mark of the Order. It was the mark that had taken his son, and now it was the mark that had taken his name. He sat alone in the car. The engine ticked as it cooled, a...
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