The Golden Harbor
The fog in the village of Blackwood did not merely obscure the world; it consumed it, a thick, gray shroud that pressed against the windowpanes with the weight of wet wool. For three generations, the stone keep of the Vane family had stood at the edge of the cliffs, a monolith of grey granite that seemed to grow out of the earth itself, its turrets piercing the low-hanging clouds. To the...
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