The Golden Maze
Silas Vane stood in the center of the obsidian floor, the weight of the Golden Maze heavy in his left hand, while the distant, rhythmic chanting of the High Council echoed through the corridors like the grinding of millstones against the dark. He was forty-five years old, a captain of the Imperial Guard with twenty years of unblemished service, and he clutched the ceremonial key so tightly that...
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