The Faded Dust
The watch is cracked. It has been cracked for three days, ever since the night the bell tower fell, but you keep wearing it. The leather strap is frayed, the brass face clouded with a dull patina that matches the color of the mud in the village square. You do not look at the time. You do not need to. You know the rhythm of the siege. You know the weight of the iron in your hands. You are Elias,...
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