The Faded Frontier
You wake in the damp earth of a cellar that smells of iron and old blood, the air thick with a silence so heavy it presses against your eardrums like deep water, and you realize that your hands are not your own but are wrapped in the tattered, rusted gauntlets of a soldier who died centuries ago, and the weight of the steel is a familiar, terrible comfort that you have accepted as the natural...
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