The Faded Shield
You stand in the center of the sterile, humming white room, the air thick with the scent of ozone and old paper, while the seven of you form a tight, unbroken circle around the pedestal where the object rests. It is not a shield, not anymore; it was a shield once, forged in the fires of a justice that no longer exists, but now it has become something else, something that breathes and shifts and...
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