The Golden Song
The mist in the valley of Oakhaven did not rise so much as it exhaled, a slow, grey breath that settled into the crevices of the stone walls and the damp wool of the coats worn by the few who still lived there. Elias Thorne stood alone on the ridge above the town, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his threadbare overcoat, watching the way the fog swallowed the church spire until it was no...
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