The Golden Circuit
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, folded into a shape so small it could have fit inside the nail of a thumb. It was sealed with wax the color of dried blood, a crude mark that suggested haste or desperation rather than ceremony. Julian Ashworth, Warden of the Hollow Rock, held it between his stained fingers, feeling the weight of the paper as if it were lead. He did not open it immediately. He...
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