The Golden Suspect

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2026-08-20 12:55:49 -

The ink was black. It smelled of iron and old blood. I held the quill. My hand did not shake. That was the first wrong thing. I was a scribe in the Tower of Silence. A lowly scribe. My name was Thomas, though the records would call me the Wretch. The cell was small. Stone walls. One window, high up. The light came in thin and gray. I had been here for three years. They said I was a traitor. I...

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