The Golden Maze
The banquet hall of St. Jude’s Institute smelled of stale wine and damp wool, a scent that had seeped into the very pores of your skin over twenty years of service. You stood at the edge of the long oak table, watching the candles flicker against the shadows, your hands trembling slightly as you held your glass of water, the cold condensation seeping into your palms like a warning. Dr. Aris,...
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