The Golden Echoes
The mist did not rise from the valley floor so much as it exhaled, a slow, gray breath that swallowed the footbridge and the first few steps of the path into the treeline. Elias Thorne stood alone on the granite slab, his boots sinking slightly into the wet moss. He was a man of the border, a soldier of the old Guard, tasked with the protection of the Crown’s northernmost reach. His uniform,...
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