The Golden Master
The road to the Edge of the World did not end so much as it dissolved into a fog that tasted of iron and old rain. Elias Thorne walked it with the heavy, rhythmic gait of a man who had forgotten how to stop, his boots sinking into the silt that clung to the path like the memory of a grave. He was not a traveler in the conventional sense; he was a courier of a burden too large for his shoulders,...
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