The Golden Maze
The mud was thick and black, sucking at my boots with a wet, visceral sound that seemed to echo in the hollows of my chest as I trudged forward through the rain-soaked moor. I had walked for three days without sleep, driven by a singular, obsessive purpose that felt less like ambition and more like a curse etched into the marrow of my bones. I was searching for the source, the wellspring of the...
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