The Golden Maze
The air in the cathedral square tasted of wet stone and old wine, a thick, cloying sweetness that coated the back of your throat and made it hard to swallow. You stood at the edge of the crowd, your fingers white-knuckled around the handle of the leather satchel at your hip, feeling the weight of the contents pressing against your thigh like a second heartbeat. Around you, the people were a...
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