The Golden Visit
The tower did not burn; it dissolved, a sudden and catastrophic unwinding of stone and mortar that turned the sky the color of a bruised plum, and you stood in the courtyard of the Citadel of Aethelgard, watching your armor rust into red powder in the space of a single, held breath, the metal flakes drifting down like snow that had forgotten how to melt, while the air tasted of ozone and the...
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