The Golden Master
The steel bit into the shield, a jagged scream of metal on metal that vibrated up through the leather grip and settled in the marrow of Aldric’s arm. He did not flinch. He could not. The air in the cellar was thick, not merely with the stale breath of the earth, but with a substance that felt like dust and starlight mixed, a grey murk that clung to the eyes and the lungs. It was a suffocating...
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