The Golden Circuit
The ink is still wet. My hand trembles. Not from cold. The air is thick. It smells of rot and iron. I am in the dark. But not empty dark. Look. See the glow? It pulses. A soft, golden light. It breathes. Like a lung. Like a heart. It is the only thing here that is warm. It is the only thing here that is alive. I am Edric. I am a seeker of truths. Or so I believed. I came here to find the thief....
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