The Distant Whispers
The shield cracked. Not shattered. Cracked. A fissure ran from the boss to the rim. A hairline fracture in the iron. Captain Elias Thorne did not look down. He could not. To look was to admit the weight. To admit the weight was to admit the end. He pressed the rim against the stone wall of the Keep. The stone was cold. The stone was old. The stone did not care. Behind him, the sound of boots....
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