The Golden Master
The ink on the seal is red. It is the only color in the house. You press your thumb against it. The wax cools. The wax hardens. The wax lies. You are the Keeper of the House of Ashworth. Or you were. Now you are the prisoner of your own devotion. The walls are high. The windows are narrow slits of light. You live in the library. You sleep on the floor among the spines of dead men. Your name is...
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