The Golden Farce

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2026-08-20 15:58:26 -

The Golden Farce

The wind did not howl. It screamed. It tore through the hollows of the Blackwood like a jagged wire, snapping the brittle twigs of the skeletal oaks. Elias Vance did not flinch. He stood with his back against the rough bark of a dying elm, his hand pressed flat against the wood. Beneath his palm, the tree shuddered. It was not a gust. It was a pulse. "Stay down, Elias," a voice whispered from...

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