The Golden Harbor
The iron gate of the Bastion did not open; it broke. You remember the sound, a shrieking of metal that tore through the damp, fog-choked air of the valley, louder than the thunder that had rolled over the peaks for three days straight. You were standing on the wet cobblestones, your hands white-knuckled around the hilt of your short sword, your breath coming in ragged, shallow bursts that...
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