The Pale Shadows
The road to the Citadel of Oakhaven was not a path of stone, but a scar of mud that wound through the highlands, slick with rain and the memory of snow. Sir Julian Thorne walked it with the heavy, measured tread of a man who had forgotten how to move quickly. He was the King’s Shield, a title that had once felt like a crown of iron and now felt like a chain around his own throat. In his...
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