The Golden Maze
The air tasted of copper and dried lavender. It was a flavor that settled on the tongue, thick and heavy, like a secret kept too long. Thomas Bradshaw walked. His boots struck the stone floor with a rhythm that was less a march and more a heartbeat. *Thud. Thud. Thud.* The corridor stretched before him, endless and narrow. The walls were lined with shelves. On the shelves sat jars. Glass, thick...
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