The Golden Farce

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2026-08-18 10:36:57 -

The Golden Farce

The fire took the granary first. Then the barn. By the time the bell in the steeple began to shriek, a thin veil of smoke had swallowed the sun, turning the midday light into a bruised, sickly purple. I stood on the porch of the watchtower, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword, feeling the heat press against my face like a physical weight. The air tasted of ash and charred oak. I had sworn...

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