The Golden Echoes
Act I "You think the Guild cares about the weave, Sadia? They care about the ledger." The voice of Malik, the Guild Master, cut through the haze of the banquet hall, sharp and dry as a flint strike. I did not look up from the plate of dried apricots in front of me, my fingers stained deep with indigo, the pigment seeping into the whorls of my nails where no amount of scrubbing with pumice could...
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