The Golden Maze
The gate is heavy. It is iron. It is old. I push it. It groans. The sound is a low moan. It is the voice of the stone. It is the voice of my brother. I walk in. The walls are high. They are white. They are clean. They are wrong. We have lived here for three days. The air is still. It does not move. It smells of dust. It smells of fear. My name is Elias. I am the prisoner. I am the sinner. I am...
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