The Golden Quest
The light is in the corner again, Elias, and it is getting warmer. It pools in the drafty space where the wall meets the floor, a thick, golden sludge that does not behave like fire but like honey, or perhaps like the resin left behind by a wasp that has died in the eaves. I have been sitting on the stool by the hearth for three hours, my hands shaking so badly that the quill scratches the...
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