The Golden Visit
The axe bites the stone. It sparks. You swing again. The bone of the mountain cracks. You are not afraid. You are only tired. The sweat stings your eyes. You blink it away. The dust coats your tongue. It tastes of iron and old rain. You are the Keeper. That is what they call you in the village below. They do not know your name. Not really. They call you Silas, or Tom, or just the man in the...
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