The Golden Circuit
Act I Gold is not a color. It is a weight. I have held it in my palm, cold and sharp, and it sinks into the skin like a nail. My name is Seamus Dunne. I am forty-two. I guard the court. My son, Paddy, is twelve. He has a tooth in his mouth that does not belong to him. It is gold. It cracks. Every night, gold dust bleeds onto my pillow. I wipe it away. It returns. The alchemist, a man named...
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