The Golden Maze
The count was precise: four hundred and twelve hours of labor, logged in the margin of a crumbling ledger, each hour weighed against the cost of a single day’s bread in Aethelgard. Elias Vane sat in the skeletal remains of the Grand Library, the air thick with the dry scent of rotting vellum and iron filings, his fingers tracing the jagged edge of a parchment map that had cost him three months’...
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