The Faded Shield
In the dream, the city was made of breath and iron, a labyrinth of narrow, soot-stained lanes where the fog did not lift but thickened, pressing against the eyes like a wet woolen hand. Elara stood in the center of the market square, her hands bound not by rope but by the heavy, suffocating weight of the silence that had fallen over the crowd. They were looking at her, the men and women of the...
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