The Golden Quest
"You are late, Thomas. The gate does not wait for the whims of the commoners." The voice was not cruel, merely flat, like the sound of a shutter closing. I stood before the iron grille, my fingers trembling against the cold metal. It was a simple gate, forged from black iron and twisted into shapes that resembled thorns, standing at the entrance to the Old Mill District. But in this city, gates...
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