The Golden Song
You wake in the cell. The air tastes of rust and old bread. It is dark. You are not alone. Thomas is sitting by the wall. He is eating a piece of hard cheese. He does not look up when you stir. "Good," he says. His voice is rough. "You finally stopped dreaming." You sit up. Your head throbs. The stone floor is cold through your thin tunic. You look at the cheese in his hand. It is small. It is...
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