The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-23 11:57:33 -

The parchment was brittle, the ink faded to the color of dried blood, and it was held in a hand that trembled not with age, but with the specific, hollow exhaustion of a man who had walked too far for a cause he could no longer name. Sir Aldric stood before the gate of the Obsidian Keep, the year 1042 pressing down upon him like a physical weight, the stone archway looming above him in the grey...

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