The Golden Harbor
The bell rang. It was a deep, bronze sound. It cut the air. The air was thick. It was thick with smoke and sweat. Elara stood on the bridge. The ship shook. The deck tilted. She held her staff. The wood was smooth. It was old. It had served her for forty years. She was the Archivist of the Deep. She knew the currents. She knew the stones. The water was black. It was churning. It rose to the...
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