The Golden Farce
The dream that clung to Silas Vane like a second skin was not a nightmare, for nightmares are sharp and jagged things that cut the sleeper, but rather a slow, suffocating immersion into a liquid that was neither water nor light, but a heavy, viscous gold that filled every pore of his being and whispered of a truth so vast and terrible that it threatened to unmake the small, fragile vessel of...
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