The Golden Farce
The iron seal on the gate of the Abbey of St. Jude did not break so much as it exhaled, a long, shuddering sigh of rust and ancient malice that scattered the autumn leaves into a frantic, rust-colored spiral, and in that single, catastrophic moment of metal yielding to the dark, I understood that the cycle had not merely continued but had tightened its noose around the throat of the world,...
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