The Golden Farce
The fever broke not with a clarity of mind but with a delirium so vivid it felt like a second life, a hallucination where the stone walls of the Royal Keep wept molten gold, dripping onto the floorboards in heavy, viscous tears that pooled around Sir Aldric’s bed. He woke gasping, his hands twisting in the sheets until the fabric tore, his eyes fixed on the ancestral sword resting against the...
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