The Golden Master
The iron gate of the Keep did not close with a click, but with a sigh, a heavy exhalation of rust and ancient stone that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Thomas Bradshaw’s bones. He stood in the courtyard, the rain slicking his dark uniform until it clung to him like a second, wetter skin, and watched the gate swing shut behind him, severing him from the world he had sworn to protect. The...
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