The Faded River

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2026-08-24 16:16:35 -

The Faded River

I remember the weight of the shield before I remember my own name. It sat against my hip, a slab of oak and iron that had grown heavy with the years, its surface slick with the sweat of a thousand watches. The wood was dark, stained by the salt air of the fishing outpost where I had served, a place of high moor and no shelter where the wind did not blow so much as it pushed. I was thirty-four,...

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