The Faded Road
The iron gate shudders against its hinges, a sound like a bone snapping in the dark, and you feel the vibration travel up through the soles of your boots, a cold, metallic tremor that warns you the perimeter is no longer a shield but a cage, and you stand there in the courtyard of the old manor, your hand resting on the hilt of your sword, the leather grip worn smooth by decades of service,...
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