The Golden Quest
The letter sat on the desk. It was thin. Pale. It smelled of ozone and old paper. You did not open it. You knew what it said. The ink was fresh, but the words were ancient. They were carved into the air around you. You felt the weight of the silence in the room. The clock ticked. The gears ground against the brass. A sound like teeth chattering in the dark. Marcus stood in the corner. He wore...
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