The Pale Banner
The weight of the stone was the first thing Colm Brannigan noticed, a cold, heavy anchor in his palm that felt less like a seal and more like a shackle. He stood in the rain-slicked courtyard of the ancestral home, the water running in dark rivulets down the face of the Burren stone, blurring the lines of the escarpment where the wind turbines turned their slow, indifferent circles against a...
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