The Golden Maze
The rain against the windowpane was a rhythmic tapping, a clock without hands, marking the seconds of my diminishing life. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two, and my heart is a failing engine, sputtering under the weight of two decades spent chasing shadows in the Imperial Library. I want to decode the Maze Codex before the next arrhythmia stops my breath, a desire that has grown less like academic...
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