The Golden Quest
The first thing you notice is the smell, a thick, cloying sweetness that clings to the back of your throat like wet wool. It is the scent of overripe plums and decaying wood, a perfume of finality that drifts up from the open windows of the farmhouse where the trial of the old world is being held. You stand in the yard, the mud sucking at your boots, watching the rain slide off the thatched...
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