The Golden Echoes
The iron chain snaps with a sound like a bone breaking inside your chest. You are standing on the wet cobblestones of the courtyard, and the mud is cold against the soles of your boots. The air smells of rain and old blood. You look down at your hands. They are trembling, not from fear, but from the sheer, violent effort of holding the gate open. Behind you, the great oak doors of the Archive...
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