The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-19 16:05:49 -

The sword bit deep. I pulled it free, shaking the crimson spray from the steel. The air was thick, not with smoke, but with the heavy, wet scent of ozone and old blood. It was a smell I had known for thirty years, a smell that lived in the marrow of my bones. "Again!" I shouted. My voice cracked. It was not the roar of a general. It was the wheeze of a man running out of breath. The figure...

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