The Debt of the Dust (Variant V-07)
They called it "charity," but I knew it was just a way for them to measure the height of their own pedestals. I remember the way the sunlight hit the mahogany tables in the manor—a gold that felt cold, like a coin pressed into a dead man's eye. I had been a wanderer for a long time, a collector of horizons and hunger. By the time I found my way to the house of the Galloways, my body was a...
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