The Faded Quadrant
The sky above the fortress of St. Aldhelm did not break; it peeled, like the skin of a ripe fruit rotting in the sun, revealing a void that was not black but a terrible, screaming white, and you stood there in the courtyard with your sword drawn and your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird, knowing with the absolute, cold certainty of a man who has seen too much war that this...
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