The Golden Maze
The road to the valley did not end. It simply dissolved into the mist, a grey throat swallowing the last of the afternoon light. Elias stood at the precipice, his boots caked in red clay that had no business being on English soil. He looked back at the convoy. The trucks were silent. The soldiers were gone. Only the dust remained, hanging in the air like a curse. He turned his face away from...
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