The Golden Circuit

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2026-08-19 08:32:20 -

The feast was cold when I found the shards. They lay on the tablecloth. Glass. Green. Thin as a whisper. The hall smelled of stale wine and wet wool. The candles had burned low. Wax pooled on the wood. The guests were gone. Only the silence remained. I am Sir Thomas. I am the Warden. My armor was heavy. It pressed on my shoulders. The steel was cold. My hands shook. I looked at the broken cup....

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