The Golden Quest

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 19:35:19 -

The Golden Quest

The hall smells of roasted duck and wet wool. You stand by the hearth. The fire pops. It spits sparks. They die on the stone. You are cold. You are always cold now. Your hands shake. Not from fear. From hunger. No. From the work. The work never stops. The loom in the corner clicks. Tick. Tick. Tick. It is the only heartbeat you trust. More than yours. More than theirs. They look at you. The...

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