The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-21 21:42:34 -

The gate of the Ironwood Forest did not have a handle, for it was not built for hands but for the wind, which had carved the oak into a face of terrible, silent patience. I stood before it, my armor damp with the morning mist that clung to the ancient pines like a shroud. Behind me, the battalion was already fading, their boots sinking into the loam, their voices a distant rumble of thunder...

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