The Golden Master
The cart wheels grind against the cobblestones of the Lower Ward, a sound like teeth cracking in a skull, and you feel the vibration rise through the soles of your boots, into your knees, and settle in the hollow of your chest. You are the Convict of the Ashen Gate, a title that carries no weight in the court of law but a heavy, suffocating gravity in the minds of the city’s inhabitants. You do...
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