The Faded Shield
The air inside the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Academy for the Preservation of Antiquities did not simply stagnate; it curdled, thick with the scent of beeswax, old parchment, and the faint, metallic tang of fear that permeates any institution where the past is treated as a weapon rather than a memory. Elias Vane stood at the foot of the grand dais, his hands clasped so tightly before him that the...
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