The Golden Farce
The gate did not open because Elias asked it to. It opened because the gatekeeper, a woman whose face was a blur of grey wool and indifferent eyes, recognized the weight of his silence. He stood on the threshold of the Place, a vast, fog-choked meadow that seemed to exist in the negative space between two heartbeats. There was no sun here, only a diffuse, milky light that offered no shadows and...
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