The Golden Maze
The iron gates of the City of Ashes did not creak; they screamed. It was a high, thin shriek that cut through the smog, a sound you felt in your teeth before you heard it with your ears. You stood before them, the boundary of the path you had walked for thirty years. The path was narrow, paved with cobblestones worn smooth by the feet of thousands who had come before, all seeking the same...
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