The Golden Maze
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a gray, suspended curtain that blurred the edges of the valley and turned the mud into a slick, breathing thing that swallowed the boots of the men of the Order of the Iron Gate, who had marched for three days with nothing to eat and less to say, carrying the weight of a command that felt less like an order and more like a curse placed upon...
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