The Golden Farce
Elias Thorne’s hands shook as he ground the moonstone into a fine, silver powder. The mortar was stone, cold and unyielding, and the sound of the pestle scraping against it echoed in the small, airless cellar beneath the Abbey of St. Jude. It was the year 1240, and the air smelled of damp earth and rot. Above him, in the infirmary, his wife Elara lay dying. Three months of the Golden Fever had...
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