The Faded Shield
The scream begins as a low, metallic hum in the left ear, a sound like a nail dragged slowly across a rivet, before it sharpens into the high-pitched shriek of tearing steel. You are alone in the inspector’s office at Blackwood Ironworks, the air thick with the scent of cold iron and stale tobacco, the November wind rattling the single pane of glass in the window. You press your hand against...
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