The Golden Maze
The great house of Blackwood Manor did not stand so much as it brooded, a monolith of soot-stained brick and iron that squatted against the grey Scottish moor like a beast that had forgotten how to sleep. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of coal dust, boiled wool, and the metallic tang of old blood, a perfume that had settled into the very pores of the wallpaper over the decades. It was...
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