The Golden Myth
The ledger in my hand weighed exactly three pounds, four ounces, and twelve grains, a precision I could not bring myself to correct. I counted the entries for the lower district, my finger tracing the inked lines of debt and rationing, while the fog pressed against the windowpane like a wet, gray cloth. Outside, the city of Oakhaven did not sleep; it exhaled. A faint, golden ichor wept from the...
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