The Faded Shield
The fog did not roll in; it settled, a grey weight that pressed against the windows of the archive until the glass bowed inward. You sat in the center of the room, Elias, your hands bound to the worktable by the sheer gravity of the task. Before you lay the Faded Shield, a disc of iron and bone, cracked into seven jagged pieces. It was not a weapon, you knew, but a record. A ledger of pain. You...
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