The Golden Crossing
The sky above the Keep of Aethelgard did not darken; it bled. A bruise of violet and black swelled over the battlements, pressing down on the stone with the weight of a thousand unspoken oaths. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the parapet, his hand resting on the cold iron of his sword, feeling the vibration of the ground beneath his boots. It was a low, thrumming sound, like a giant’s...
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