The Golden Circuit
The letter is dated the fourteenth of October, 1912. You hold it in your hands, the paper yellowed and brittle at the edges, smelling faintly of dust and old ink. You are in the study. The room is cold. The fire has died hours ago. Outside, the wind howls against the leaded glass, a low, mournful sound that vibrates in your teeth. You are a scholar. You have spent twenty years in this tower of...
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