The Faded Shield

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 18:31:16 -

The Faded Shield

The rain did not fall. It hung. A thick, gray curtain that smelled of wet iron and old blood. We stood in the circle of the Red Gate, the air so dense it felt like breathing through a wool sock. My left hand was steady. My right hand was gone. Not cut off. Just gone. The stump pulsed, a dull, rhythmic throb that matched the heartbeat of the man standing before me. He was tall. Wider than any...

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