The Golden Quest
The mud was cold enough to bite through the soles of Thorne’s boots. He stood at the edge of the checkpoint, his hand resting on the cold steel of his rifle, watching the gray dawn bleed into the treeline. A glint caught his eye. It was sharp, golden, and impossible against the dull, wet slate of the morning. It pulsed once, then vanished. Thorne’s pulse jumped. The Golden Seal. The rumor had...
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