The Golden Master
The wind was not merely blowing; it was stripping the bark from the ash trees in the courtyard, revealing the pale, trembling wood beneath, a skeletal mirror of the court that surrounded it. Aldous stood by the edge of the precipice, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the leaves turn from green to a bruised purple, then to a brittle brown that crumbled at the slightest touch. He did...
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