The Golden Quest
In the dream, the seal was made of light, not wax. It hung in the air above the kitchen table, a perfect, glowing circle that pulsed with a rhythm like a slow, failing heart. Thomas Bradshaw reached for it, his fingers cold and trembling, and as his skin brushed the surface, the light did not warm him. It shattered. It burst into a thousand shards of glass that cut his palms, stinging and...
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