The Faded Shield
Chapter One Valdris does not sleep; it merely holds its breath. The air in the ancestral library was heavy with ozone and old paper, a dry, electric tang that coated the back of Immacolata Bellini’s throat. She stood before the obsidian mirror, its surface cracked in a spiderweb pattern that mirrored the fissures spreading across the floorboards. The text before her, the Shield of Aethel, lay...
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