The Golden Farce
The dream began not with sound, but with the sensation of weight, a heavy, suffocating pressure that Elara Whitmore felt pressing against her sternum as she lay in the narrow, stone-lined bed of the traveler’s inn. It was the weight of the manuscript clutched in her hands, a thick volume of vellum bound in cracked leather, filled with the cramped, frantic scrawl of her late mentor, Brother...
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