The Faded Labyrinth
The labyrinth had always been there, beneath the city, beneath everything. Thomas Ashworth knew this the way a man knows his own heartbeat—without needing to think about it, without being able to explain how he came to know it at all.He stood at the mouth of the first passage, a throat of brick and old mortar that smelled of damp paper and something older still. The street above was all glass...
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