The Golden Maze
The blight did not arrive with a sound, but with a scent, a cloying sweetness that hung in the air like a heavy velvet curtain over the village of Oakhaven. It smelled of rotting peaches and burnt sugar, a fragrance that should have been associated with ripeness but instead signaled a profound and silent decay. The wheat fields, once the pride of the parish, had turned a bruised purple, their...
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