The Golden Song

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2026-08-21 18:43:04 -

The Golden Song

The iron collar bit into my throat, a cold and unyielding pressure that tasted of rust and old blood, and I remembered how my father, the last of the Ashworth wardens, had worn his own brand not on his skin but on his very bones, a weight so heavy it seemed to drag his soul down into the mud of the lowlands where we kept our cattle and our secrets, for in those days before the great stone walls...

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