The Golden Myth

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2026-08-22 01:32:26 -

The Golden Myth

The cart groaned under the weight of the clay, a low, guttural complaint that echoed through the misty pines of the high valley. I pulled the reins tighter, my hands numb against the leather, while the oxen breathed plumes of white vapor into the cold air. We were traveling to the Abbey of St. Jude, three days’ ride from the last honest market town, carrying a cargo that was not meant for human...

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