The Golden Master
The hand trembled, not from cold, but from the sheer weight of the gold band in the palm. Elias stood in the center of the market square in Oria, the ancient city of mist and stone, and watched a figure in a gray coat walk past the fishmongers. The figure wore his face. It was a perfect copy, down to the scar above the left eyebrow that Elias had earned in the border wars, but the eyes were...
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