The Golden Maze
The cold in the watchtower of the Golden Maze was not merely a temperature but a physical weight, pressing against Elias Thorne’s bones like the accumulated guilt of twenty years’ service. He stood alone in the freezing upper level, his breath misting in the air before it was swallowed by the viscous, golden light that bled from the facility’s walls below. Elias wanted only to leave, to secure...
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