The Faded Shield
The rain had not stopped in three days. It drummed a persistent, hollow rhythm against the roof of the barn, a sound that had long since ceased to be noise and had become the background hum of existence. Elias stood in the center of the space, holding the shield. It was not a large thing, barely a foot in diameter, made of a thin, pale wood that had been carved into the shape of a stag’s head....
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