The Faded Shield
The dream began not with light, but with the taste of copper and rot. It was a visceral, metallic tang that coated the tongue, a flavor Elias Thorne knew with a intimacy that bordered on the pathological. In the grey, mist-choked streets of Oakhaven, a town that seemed to have been carved from the same damp stone as its own foundations, this taste was the first warning of a breach in the...
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