The Golden Downtown
The rain has been falling for three days, a steady, grey curtain that blurs the edge of the moor and turns the cobblestones of the old town into slick, black mirrors, and you are walking through it, your boots heavy with mud, your mind a tangle of half-remembered oaths and the sharp, metallic taste of blood that you cannot seem to wash away, because you are the keeper of the gate, the one who...
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