The Golden Maze
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air of the Halloran Institute, a heavy, suspended mist that clung to the hair and the skin of the students, turning the ancient stone corridors into a labyrinth of damp echoes and the smell of wet wool. It was a place built on the premise that the body was a vessel for the mind, a vessel that had to be scrubbed clean of its own desires before it...
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