The Golden Maze
"You will break it," I said. My voice was thin. It scraped against the silence of the carriage like a nail on wood. My brother, Thomas, did not look up. He was cleaning his blade. The steel sang a low, continuous hum. It was a sound I had known since we were children. I had known it in the dark, in the cellar, when the fear of the dark was a living thing that pressed against our ribs. "Break...
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