The Faded Shield

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2026-08-23 09:53:12 -

The Faded Shield

The ink was still wet on my fingers, a cold, viscous film that smelled of iron and old blood, when I woke in the straw. I was not dreaming. The dream had ended, but the stain remained. I sat up, the dampness of the dungeon floor seeping into my tunic, and looked at my hands. They were black to the wrist. In the dream, Julian’s face had been soot, his eyes two holes punched in the dark. I...

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