The Pale Verdict
The wax on the ring was cold, a dull grey smear that had lost its impression years ago. Kaelen held it up to the light of the archive, turning it slowly, watching how the surface no longer held the shape of the lion, only the ghost of a groove where the metal had worn thin. It was a small thing, a circle of tarnished silver and dead wax, but it was the only thing he had left that spoke the...
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