The Golden Maze
The bell rang. It did not chime. It screamed. A jagged, metallic shriek that tore the air in the cathedral square, shaking the dust from the eaves. Elara ran. Her boots struck the cobblestones. They were wet. They were slick. She slipped. She rose. She ran. The city was old. It was dying. The stones breathed fog. The fog breathed back. She was not meant to be here. She was a foreigner. A ghost...
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