The Faded Shield
"You’re sure it’s gone? I mean, truly gone?" The question hung in the air of the archive, heavy and unresolved, a piece of debris from a dream I could not shake. I looked down at my hands, expecting to see the black dust, the fine, gritty powder of the obsidian shield that had haunted my sleep for three weeks. Instead, my fingers were clean, pale, and trembling against the edge of the oak desk....
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