The Golden Myth
Chapter One I remember the weight of the ink before I saw the stain. It sat in my palm like a wet stone, heavy and cold, seeping into the whorls of my fingerprints until I could no longer tell where my skin ended and the black liquid began. I woke with the taste of ash in my mouth, the recurring dream of the burning script still looping in my head, the characters curling into smoke before they...
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