The Golden Maze
The amphora was warm against Elias Thorne’s chest, a small, heavy sphere of gold that hummed with the residual heat of the sun, though the sky above the capital was a bruised and swollen thing, dripping snow into the cobbles. It was not a weapon, nor a tool of war, but a vessel of glass and gold, sealed with wax the color of dried blood, containing the last distilled tincture of the Emperor’s...
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