The Golden Maze
The feast of the autumn harvest was a thing of blood and bone, a ritual that had sustained the village of Oakhaven for a century, yet it felt to Silas Vane like the slow suffocation of a man buried in the earth. He stood at the edge of the great hall, his armor clinking softly against the heavy oak table, the metal cold and unyielding against his skin. The air was thick with the smell of...
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