The Golden Crossing
The blade did not stick; it slid. This was the first betrayal, the one the body knows before the mind. The steel of the King’s guard, forged in the high ovens of the capital where the air tasted of iron and sulfur, entered the soft underbelly of the beast with the ease of a needle through silk. Elara did not scream. She had learned, in the long, silent years of the borderlands, that sound was a...
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