The Golden Master

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2026-08-18 09:35:08 -

The Golden Master

The mist in the Hollow did not behave like mist. It clung to the ankles, thick as wool, tasting of iron and old rain. I had walked for three days, or perhaps three years; time in the Grey Wastes had lost its linear spine, bending under the weight of what I carried. I was Sergeant Elias Thorne, or so I told myself when the cold bit into the bone. I wore the uniform of the Order of the Silver...

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