The Golden Cellar
The road into the valley of Aethelgard was not merely a path of dirt and stone, but a wound in the earth that wept with the memory of ancient rains, and Maren walked it with the heavy, deliberate gait of a woman carrying a burden that had long since fused with her very spine, for the weight she bore was not gold, nor jewels, nor the cold iron of a sword, but the singular, terrifying clarity of...
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