The Golden Song
The iron bit was cold against my lip. The sword was heavier than it had ever been. I could feel the weight of it pulling at my shoulder, dragging me down into the mud, but I did not stop. I could not stop. The man before me was tall, his armor dented and dark with rain, but his eyes were clear. He raised his blade. I raised mine. We did not speak. There was no time for words in the heat of the...
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