The Golden Quest
The dust of the King’s Highway tasted of iron and old blood, a metallic tang that clung to the back of my throat no matter how often I spat into the dry, cracked earth. I rode a horse that was too thin for its own shadow, its ribs jutting like the planks of a wrecked ship, and behind me, tethered by nothing but the fragile thread of my own sanity, walked Silas. He did not look at me. He never...
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