The Golden Crossing
The feast of the autumn moon was held in the hollow of the old oak, a circle of firelight that seemed to breathe against the encroaching dark of the wilderness. We were soldiers, or so the maps of the world called us, bound by oaths older than the stone we sat upon, yet tonight we were merely men, hungry for the roasted fowl and the wine that tasted of iron and earth. Beside me sat Kaelen, my...
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