The Golden Maze
The mud sucked at your boots as you broke the treeline. It was a cold, wet pull, like the earth itself trying to keep you down. You were bleeding from a gash above your left eye. The blood ran hot and thick, blurring the grey sky. You did not stop. You could not stop. You were walking toward the House. It sat on the hill, a block of dark stone against the winter sky. It had stood there for a...
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