The Golden Crossing

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2026-08-18 20:01:00 -

The mist clung to the valley of Ashwood like a shroud that refused to be lifted, a thick, grey wool that swallowed the edges of the world and left only the immediate, trembling present. I stood on the edge of the precipice, my boots sinking into the wet moss, looking down into the chasm where the River Lethargy churned its slow, heavy current. The air smelled of damp stone and old iron, a scent...

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