The Faded Shield
Act I Ewa Michalski swung the hammer, the iron head catching the rim of the shield with a sound like a bone snapping. The courtyard of the Michalski estate was slick with rain, the algae-choked water of the Mazurian lakes rising in the background, a green haze that smelled of rot and ozone. She was thirty-four, her hands blistered and bleeding, the oxygen subscription on her throat humming a...
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