The Faded Shield
I woke with the taste of copper in my mouth and the memory of a dream so heavy it felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest, a suffocating blanket of grey wool that I could not shake off despite the bright, harsh light of the morning sun piercing the thin curtains of my workshop. The air in the room was still, holding the scent of drying varnish and old wood shavings, yet I felt a...
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