The Golden Maze
The chandeliers in the Vane estate did not sparkle so much as they accused, their crystal prisms cutting the afternoon light into sharp, dangerous shards that danced across the polished oak floor. Elara Vane, though she had not yet legally taken the surname, stood with her hands clasped so tightly at her sides that her knuckles turned the color of old bone, waiting for the weight of the room to...
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