The Faded Shield
The heat in Blackwood Keep was not merely a temperature but a physical weight, a suffocating blanket of stagnant air that pressed against the stone walls and settled into the marrow of the bones, making the very act of breathing feel like a laborious negotiation with the dust that hung in the shafts of afternoon light. Silas Vane, forty years old and bearing the heavy, stooped posture of a man...
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