The Golden Quest
The house was burning, but you did not run, because the fire was not of the world, it was a slow, golden exhalation that began in the cellar and climbed the walls like a vine made of light, turning the soot-blackened bricks into something that shimmered with a terrible, holy clarity, and you stood in the center of the parlor, your hands clasped tight around the heavy iron poker, watching the...
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