The Golden Visit
The road was not a road. It was a scar in the earth, a jagged line of broken slate and deep mud that cut through the heath like a wound that refused to close. Elias Thorne walked it with the slow, deliberate cadence of a man who has long since made peace with the weight of his own bones. He was old. Not the kind of old that hides in a rocking chair by a warm hearth, but the kind of old that is...
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