The Golden Master

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2026-08-20 01:53:12 -

The Golden Master

The ink was still wet on the decree of her own damnation when Margot felt the first thread of the tapestry unravel. She stood in the center of the Hall of Whispers, a vast, circular chamber where the air tasted of ozone and old blood, the floor paved with obsidian tiles that reflected the chandeliers like dark, still ponds. Above her, the Vault of Judgment hung suspended in the void, a sphere...

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