The Golden Farce
The sword was heavy, not with weight, but with the sudden, sickening realization that the air itself had thickened. "Hold the line, Kaelen," Thomas whispered, his voice thin as parchment against the roar of the wind. "They are coming through the gate." Sir Kaelen did not look at the squire. He looked at the stone. The courtyard of Blackstone Keep was not merely dark; it was saturated, a...
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