The Golden Quest
The dust hung in the air like a suspended judgment. I held the spear. My hands shook. Not from fear. From effort. The leather grips were slick with sweat. The shaft of ash wood groaned under the tension. My brother stood opposite. He did not move. He did not blink. He waited. The stone wall behind him was high. Grey. Pitted by centuries of rain and war. It had stood since before my grandfather....
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