The Golden Master
The rain fell on the iron roofs of New Carthage, a steady, rhythmic drumming that sounded like the heartbeat of a dying god. It was the year of the Great Silence, when the coal had run out and the sky turned the color of bruised slate. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the platform, his boots caked in the black sludge of the mine shafts. He was a man carved from stone and sorrow, his face a map...
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