The Golden Master

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2026-08-19 09:43:20 -

The Golden Master

He dreamt of hands. Not his hands. The hands were large. They were brown. They held a sword. The sword was gold. It burned in the dark. He woke with a gasp. The room was cold. Stone walls. Moss grew in the cracks. He sat up. His back ached. It always ached. He was old now. The aches did not leave. He looked at his own hands. They were thin. They were white. They shook. They held nothing. He...

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