The Golden Maze
The air in the manor house tastes of copper and stale lavender, a metallic sweetness that coats the back of your throat and settles into the crevices of your uniform, a uniform that no longer fits the man who wears it but clings to the ghost of the soldier you were before the fog took your mind. You stand in the center of the library, a room that has become a labyrinth of shadows and dust, your...
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