The Golden Circuit
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a grey, weeping curtain that blurred the boundary between the sky and the moss-eaten stones of the keep. I stood at the edge of the precipice, my hands slick with the cold, the weight of my chain biting into the iron of my wrist, a cold that had long since seeped past the skin and settled into the marrow of my bones. Below, the chasm yawned, a...
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