The Faded Quadrant

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2026-08-18 20:00:43 -

The fog was thick. It tasted of iron and old rain. Thomas stood at the edge of the cliff. The stone was slick. His boots slipped. He gripped the hilt of his sword. The metal was cold. It bled into his palm. Below, the valley lay still. A grey sea of mist. No birds. No wind. Just the sound of his own breathing. It was fast. It was shallow. He was a captain of the King’s Guard. This was his post....

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