The Golden Circuit
The hall is cold. The air bites. You are here. The stones are old. They remember. You remember. The fire dies. The embers glow. Red. Then black. You stand before the gate. It is iron. It is high. It is closed. The gold is in your hand. It is heavy. It is warm. It burns. You hold it tight. Your fingers ache. You do not drop it. You never drop it. The door opens. A man walks in. He is tall. He is...
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