The Golden Maze
The fog did not lift. It thickened. Elias stood at the edge of the cliff, his boots sinking into the wet moss. Below him, the valley stretched out in a swirl of grey mist, indistinguishable from the sky. He was twelve years old. He carried a staff of ash wood, smooth and worn by his hands. Beside him walked Kael. Kael was older, sixteen, with eyes that had seen too much for his face. They were...
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