The Faded Shield
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the high courtyard into a mirror that reflected the weeping sky and the jagged, hungry stones of the keep. Thomas stood by the iron-bound door, his fingers digging into the rough wool of his tunic, his knuckles white not from cold, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the silence that hung in the air. He was twelve years...
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