The Golden Crossing

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 10:17:15 -

The woolen scarf, dyed a deep and fading burgundy, hung upon my neck like a noose made of memories, its fibers matted and fraying with every mile we traversed through the high, cold passes of the Scottish Highlands. I was a lowly scribe in the household of Lord Ashworth, a man whose name carried the weight of centuries and the silence of a graveyard, and I had traveled north with him to settle...

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