The Golden Circuit
The dream had teeth. They were not real teeth, but the sharp, jagged edges of a world that had no use for him anymore. He woke with the taste of iron and old ash on his tongue. The room was cold. The windowpane was cracked, a white spiderweb frozen in the glass, catching the grey light of a dawn that promised nothing but more rain. Miles stood up. His legs felt heavy, as if he were wading...
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