The Golden Song
The loaf was warm. It smelled of yeast and rain. I held it up to the light. The crust was golden. It was perfect. It was a lie. "You have failed us, Thomas," said the Elder. He did not look at me. He looked at the bread. His eyes were wet. "I have not," I said. My voice shook. "I followed the rite. I followed the word. I followed the law." "Then why does it taste of ash?" he asked. He took a...
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