The Golden Myth

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2026-08-17 19:36:17 -

The Golden Myth

The fire started in the hayloft. It ate the roof beams with a roar that sounded like the earth tearing its own skin. I watched from the yard, my hands shaking, the smell of charred oak thick in my throat. The village gathered below, a sea of dark coats and pale faces, all looking up at the black sky. No one spoke. We were a single organism, breathing in the soot, breathing out the fear. The...

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