The Golden Farce

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2026-08-20 09:40:06 -

The Golden Farce

The air in the vault smelled of damp wool, old parchment, and the metallic tang of fear. It was a scent that clung to the back of the throat, a persistent residue of the world above being sealed away. In the center of the circular chamber, surrounded by walls of rough-hewn granite that seemed to lean inward, stood Thomas. He was twelve years old, his frame thin and angular, dressed in a tunic...

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