The Golden Master
The iron in the master’s ring was cold against my thumb as I lifted it from the velvet pouch. It was a simple band of blackened steel, tarnished by decades of sweat and rain, yet it sat upon my finger with a weight that felt less like metal and more like a verdict. I am a keeper of the watch at the Ashworth Priory, a role that has consumed the latter half of my life in the quiet, echoing...
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