The Golden Circuit
14th of November, 1412 London I write to you, Elara, by the flickering light of a tallow candle that hisses in the draft, my hand cramped from the cold and the fear I refuse to name, and I must tell you that I am not the man you left three years ago, nor the constable I was when I walked out of the Old Bailey, but something broken and hollowed out by the stone itself. I remain here in the...
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