The Faded Shield
The rain slicked the cobblestones of Oakhaven, turning the grey morning into a mirror of mud and rot. Elara stood at the edge of the market square, her breath pluming white in the cold air. She held the iron gate of the sanctuary in her hand, the metal biting into her palm. It was time. She looked back at the city. The spires of the guild halls pierced the low clouds. The bells had not rung....
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