The Golden Harbor
The iron seal on the letter was cracked, a jagged wound in the black wax that bled out a faint, rust-colored dust when I pressed my thumb against it. I held it in my hand, feeling the cold weight of the metal against my palm, the same cold that had settled into the marrow of my bones since the campaign in the North. The parchment inside was thin, brittle as autumn leaves, and the ink had faded...
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