The Pale Banner
The gate of the Iron Citadel was not merely closed; it was a wound in the hillside, sealed by a law older than the stone. Elara stood before it, her hands raw from the three-day walk through the mud, counting the hours of silence she had endured since leaving the village. Three days. That was the measure of her penance, or so the village elders had claimed, though they had not looked her in the...
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