The Golden Song
The snow was already on the stone when you reached for the latch, your fingers numb and slick against the iron. You were Elias, thirty-two years old, a border warden with a ledger full of debts and a head full of static, and you needed this permanent post more than you needed air. The debt was your father’s, a sum owed to the Crown for a crime he had never been allowed to name, and Lord Vane...
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