The Golden Master
The iron bit of the sword was already in Gareth’s mouth, the taste of cold metal and old blood thickening the air inside the stone chamber until it was almost a physical weight, pressing against the backs of his eyes and the roots of his teeth. He did not blink. He could not blink. The sweat that ran down his temples did not drip; it evaporated instantly in the dry, stilted heat of the vault, a...
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