The Golden Quest
The metal is cursed, Master Thorne said, and you know it. Elias held the ring in his palm, the gold cold against the sweat of his skin, while the Guild Master looked down from his high-backed chair. The room smelled of beeswax and old ink, the scent of the archive where Elias had spent the last three years learning to grind pigments and prepare vellum. Thorne’s fingers were thick and red, the...
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