The Golden Quest
The gold is dead. I said it quietly, but the words hung in the air of the workshop, heavy and sharp as the hammer strikes that had ceased. The Abbot stood by the door, his shadow stretching long across the flagstones, a dark smear against the pale stone. He did not answer. He only watched my hands, those two small, bleeding things, trembling on the anvil. "Three days, Elias," he said. His voice...
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