The Faded Shield
What did I break, and why did no one tell me it was mine? The fog in Vinterhavn did not roll in; it ate. It swallowed the sound of the church bells until the morning service was a mute gesture, a hand waving at nothing. I worked the night shift at the municipal museum, guarding the exhibits that the town paid for with its last honest coins. The air inside the galleries smelled of dust and old...
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