The Golden Circuit
The stone is cracking. You feel it in your teeth. You feel it in the soles of your feet as you stand on the cold flagstones of the great hall. The air is thick with the smell of wet earth and old blood. You are holding the shard. It is jagged. It is bright. It is you. Margaret stands across the room. Her face is pale. Her hands are shaking. She is looking at the shard in your hand. She is...
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