The Golden Myth
The rain has been falling for three days, a steady, gray curtain that blurs the edges of the world outside the window. You stand in the center of the great hall, the stone floor cold through the soles of your boots, holding the gold circlet in your hands. It is heavy, not with weight, but with the sheer density of its history, of the kings who have worn it, and the ones who have been buried...
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