The Golden Circuit

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2026-08-22 17:26:36 -

14th of November Father’s breath rattles like dry leaves in a tin can, and I have not slept in three days. We are moving through the highlands, the air so thin it burns the back of the throat, and the wagon jolts over every stone with a violence that makes my stomach turn. I want only one thing: to keep him alive for one more month, just long enough to see the winter pass, but the weight of his...

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