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Weekly Contest #360
TW: Degenerative illness, grief We were just strangers. The cruelest part was that we had once been everything to each other. I was a Warrior of Veyrath, raised to carry a blade before I learned to hold a pen. Lucien was a servant. In Veyrath, people like him suffered, and people like me made sure they did. Every day, I found him in the castle halls. It was subtle, but a hint of mischief always sparkled between us. He would be adjusting the edges of the carpet. I walked past with my chin held high, sword at my side. But I couldn’t help al...
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