The Golden Crossing
The river has a new name now. You do not know what it was. You only know that the water is black, and it smells of iron and rot. You stand on the bank. Your legs are heavy. The mud sucks at your boots. You are Thomas. You are the son. You are the sinner. The house looms behind you. It is old. The stone is dark with age. The windows are blind. No light comes out. No one comes out. It has been...
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