The Golden Circuit
The sword snapped with a sound like a dry branch breaking in a winter forest. Garrick stood in the center of the muddy clearing, the broken hilt still clutched in his right hand, the jagged shard of steel in his left. The rain had stopped, but the air remained heavy, thick with the smell of wet earth and iron. Across from him, the figure that had been his captain for the last three weeks did...
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