The Golden Echoes
The road does not end here, but it feels as though your legs have forgotten how to carry the weight of your own armor, the iron biting into your shoulders with a dull, rhythmic ache that matches the pounding of your heart. You are walking into the mist, a thick, gray wool that swallows the world whole, and the air tastes of copper and old rain. This is the place where the laws of the living...
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