The Golden Song
The iron key sat in Silas’s hand, cold as the grave it was meant to unlock, and he stared at it with the hollow, unblinking stare of a man who has forgotten the weight of his own soul. It was a small thing, unremarkable in its ugliness, a jagged piece of metal that had once been a tool of order, a symbol of the rigid hierarchy that bound the realm of Aethelgard together in its golden,...
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