The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-24 00:03:15 -

The watch log counted forty-seven hours of silence before the cold started. It began in the left ring finger, a dull ache like a nail driven slowly into the bone. I was sharpening my pike when the sensation hit, sharp and sudden, forcing me to drop the blade. It clattered on the stone floor, ringing out in the empty watchtower. I looked at my hand. The skin was pale, waxy, and the knuckle...

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