The Golden Farce

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2026-08-25 13:10:31 -

The Golden Farce

The iron key was cold. It sat in your palm, a heavy, rusted thing that smelled of old blood and wet stone. You held it for a long moment, feeling the weight of it settle into the meat of your hand, before you turned to face the gate. Beyond the bars, the mist rolled in thick as wool, erasing the treeline. You are Silas. You are thirty-two years old, and you are the warden of the Northern Pass...

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