The Pale Shadows
The small, iron-bound box of the Captain’s seal lay heavy in Elias Thorne’s palm, the metal cold against the calluses of his fingers, a weight that seemed to anchor him to the floorboards of the stone chamber. He stared at the etched lion, its eyes dull and lifeless, and the recurring dream of white ash settling over a silent battlefield began to fade, replaced by the harsh, rhythmic creak of...
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