The Faded Shield
Chapter One Could a rusted piece of iron truly hold back the fog, or was it only my own refusal to let go that made the mist retreat? The question sat in my throat like a stone as I stood on the cobblestones of the last village on the pilgrim road, the chill rising from the cellar of the old inn where I kept my wares. I am twelve years old, and I have carried this shield since the day my...
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