The Pale Banner
The badge weighs four ounces. It is a dull, tarnished silver thing, cracked down the center like a dry riverbed, and it sits in your palm with a heaviness that has nothing to do with metal. You turn it over. The engraving is faded, the stars worn flat by years of thumbs and sweat. Outside the window, the dust of Oakhaven hangs in the air, thick and yellow, coating the hems of your shirt and the...
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