The Golden Crossing
The feast was loud. It was too loud. Caleb sat at the end of the long oak table. The wood was scarred by centuries of knives and spills. Around him, the village elders ate. They ate the roasted boar. They drank the dark wine. They laughed. The laughter bounced off the stone walls. It felt like a weapon. Caleb did not laugh. He looked at his hands. They were still. They were clean. He had washed...
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