The Golden Farce
The rain fell in sheets of iron, hammering against the leather of Alden’s cloak, each drop a small, cold judgment upon the earth. He stood in the center of the muddy track, the road to the abbey lost behind him in a fog of grey and sorrow, while ahead of him the forest opened like a wound that refused to close. Alden was not a man who spoke easily of his power, nor did he seek the praise of the...
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