The Golden Echoes
The iron key bit into the lock of the vault, the metal screaming a high, thin note against the dark stone, and I knew then that the silence inside was not empty but heavy, a physical weight that pressed against my eardrums before the door even swung open. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a veteran of the King’s Guard, and I have walked through the corridors of this palace for twenty...
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