The Golden Crossing
The tower stood apart from the village, a monolith of gray stone that swallowed the light. It was not a church, nor a watchtower, though it served both purposes in the eyes of the people below. Inside, the air was still. It tasted of dust and old iron. Silas Vane sat in the corner of the uppermost chamber. He was alone. He had been alone for three days. He was a man of the law. Or he had been....
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