The Golden Quest
The fog rolled in thick as wool. It smelled of iron. Of rot. I watched it eat the streetlights. One by one. First the gas lamp on the corner. Then the one above the bakery. Darkness is a hungry thing. It chews the edges off the world. And I am still standing here. Holding the lantern. Holding the silence. "Are you there, Elias?" My voice sounded thin. A reed in the wind. I did not answer. I...
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