The Faded Quadrant
The air in the Hall of Adjudication tasted of copper and old dust, a metallic tang that coated the back of your throat and made the tongue feel heavy, as if it had swollen within its socket. You stood in the center of the circular room, the floor beneath your feet composed of polished obsidian that reflected your own distorted image back up at you, a dark pool in which your face was a fractured...
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