SHIELD
A barrier can rise from stone, from iron, from silence. Some choose silk instead. Shield carries tales of guardians who stood before gates, rulers who sat on woven legacies, and families who passed protection down through thread.
A queen once ordered a rug so dense, no blade could tear it, believing layers held safety. A child wrapped himself in fabric stitched with his ancestors’ names; certain history would shield him. A weaver tied knots so tight, they held their shape for centuries, absorbing every footstep, every secret, every war fought above them. Some walls crumble. Silk remains.