The Faded Shield
The iron shield hung heavy on Elias’s back, a rusted weight that seemed to pull his spine toward the damp earth of the cellar floor, and in the suffocating dark, beneath the rotting foundations of the Ashworth estate, he clutched it with hands that had long since forgotten the sensation of warmth. He was forty years old, a warder by title and a prisoner by necessity, and the silence that bound...
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