The Golden Visit
The room smelled of wet wool and old copper, a scent that had settled into the very fibers of the heavy velvet drapes, pressing against my throat like a physical weight. I stood in the center of the circular hall, my hands bound at the wrists with a cord that felt less like rope and more like a living thing, pulsing with a faint, cold light that matched the eerie, bioluminescent moss crawling...
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