The Golden Maze
The chandeliers in the Great Hall of Ashworth Manor spun in a lazy, drunken orbit, casting prismatic shards of light across the polished marble floor where the war council stood in a grim, unbroken semicircle. You are twelve years old, Elias, and you are standing in the center of this gilded cage, clutching your father’s discarded gold-leafed glove so tightly that the knuckles of your left hand...
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