The Golden Quest
The quill held three drops of gold. Three drops, heavy as wet pebbles, suspended on the nib, refusing to fall. Elara counted them. One, two, three. She had been counting the drops for an hour, her wrist locked in a rigid extension, the parchment beneath her hand damp and soft as rotting fruit. The year was 1347, and the city of Oakhaven smelled of wet stone and the sour tang of mildew creeping...
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