The Golden Maze
The house stood at the edge of the cliff, a jagged tooth of black slate and iron that had not been built by any human hand but seemed to have grown from the rock itself, breathing with the slow, tidal rhythm of the sea. Elara Vance sat in the window of the top floor, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold, watching the fog roll in from the grey Atlantic. It was not...
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