The Pale Banner
The wind died with a sudden, violent finality, as if the mountain itself had held its breath and forgotten how to exhale. Captain Elias Thorne stood alone on the muddy ridge of the Blackwood Pass, his breath misting in the frigid air, clutching a map that was more rot than parchment. He was thirty years old, though the scars on his face and the weight of his armor made him seem a decade older,...
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