The Golden Maze
The feast in the great hall of the Ashworth manor was a cacophony of clattering silver and the sharp, acidic bite of stale wine. Elias stood at the periphery, his fingers white-knuckled around the small glass vial hidden in the folds of his black tunic. The air was thick with the smell of roasted boar and the heavier, cloying scent of grief that the villagers wore like a perfume to mask their...
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