The Golden Maze
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a scream, a high, thin shriek that tore through the thick, honeyed silence of the great hall at Aldenmoor Castle, where the air hung heavy with the scent of burning wax and the metallic tang of old, dried blood that still stained the flagstones beneath the velvet runners. Margaret, standing in the shadows of the archway, felt the heat of the inferno...
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