The Golden Maze
Mara held the sledgehammer high above her head, the wooden handle slick with sweat, while the three members of the Heritage Preservation Committee stood in the doorway, their faces pale and twisted with a mixture of horror and disapproval. The air in the center of the ballroom was thick with the scent of old dust and the sharp, metallic tang of fear, but Mara did not flinch; she was thirty-four...
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