The Faded Shield
The shield was cold, a slab of iron that drank the heat from Elias Thorne’s palms. He held it before him, a barrier against the wet dark, the metal slick with rain and something else, something viscous and black. The wolf was not a beast of fur and bone but a tear in the air, a howling void that bled ink. It lunged, its jaws snapping at the space where Elias’s neck should be. He did not think....
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