The Golden Circuit
The air in the Undercroft tasted of ozone and wet wool, a sharp metallic tang that clung to the back of my throat. I walked down the long, spiraling staircase, my shoes squeaking against the slick stone, the sound echoing like a heartbeat in a hollow chest. Below the city, where the subway lines tangled like dark roots, lay the place we called the Archive of Lost Time. It was not a library, nor...
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