The Golden Maze
The spear bit deep. It did not pierce the heart, but it grazed the rib, a slanting wound that sprayed hot copper across the snow. Caelen gasped. The cold air rushed into his lungs, sharp as glass. He was in the middle of the fight. No beginning. No cause. Only the immediate, brutal fact of the blade in his side and the enemy at his throat. The enemy was a man in gray. His face was a mask of...
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