The Faded Shield
The rusted shield hung suspended in the air above the archive floor, its surface pitting and flaking into a fine, orange dust that drifted down like slow snow, and Elara Vane reached out to catch it, her fingers passing through the metal as if it were smoke, the ash settling on her wrist in a cold, gritty line that did not wash off. She woke with a gasp that sounded too loud in the silent room,...
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