The Faded Guest

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2026-08-22 14:07:43 -

The Faded Guest

The arrow struck my left shoulder before I could draw breath. It did not throb. It did not bleed. It simply sat there, a black feathered intruder, humming with a silence that was louder than the shouting men outside the gate. I looked down at the shaft. The wood was ash, pale and dry. I touched the fletching. It was soft, like the fur of the rabbit I had killed when I was seven years old. My...

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