The Golden Myth

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2026-08-20 09:26:38 -

The Golden Myth

The feast hall of Aethelgard was a cathedral of gold and shadow, where the air hung thick with the scent of roasted boar and the sweeter, cloying perfume of night-blooming jasmine. Marguerite sat at the far end of the long oak table, her posture rigid, her hands folded tightly in her lap as if she were holding her own bones together. Before her lay a plate of untouched meat, the juices pooling...

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