The Golden Maze
The mirror broke first. It was a small thing. A crack in the glass. But I heard it. A sharp, bright snap. Like a knuckle cracking. I was standing in the hall of the Ashworth Estate. The air smelled of dust and old stone. The house was dead. The family had left. They had been gone for three days. I was the last one. I was the keeper. I was the scholar. I was here to study. I was here to observe....
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