The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-20 10:29:56 -

The steel of your sword, Caelen, sings a high, thin note against the iron breastplate of the man who stands before you, a sound that cuts through the humid air of the courtyard at the village of Oakhaven, a place where the mist clings to the cobblestones like a shroud that refuses to be shaken loose, and you are bleeding from a gash above your left eye, the warm blood trickling down your temple...

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