The Golden Quest
The brick shrapnel hits your cheek before you even register the impact, a jagged tear of wet mortar and dust that mixes with the copper taste of blood on your tongue. You are on your knees in the mud of the courtyard, your hands slick with the grime of the city, and the sound of the explosion is not a roar but a sudden, violent absence of air, a hollow thud that vibrates in the marrow of your...
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