The Golden Mirror
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of the old district into slick, dark mirrors, reflecting the fractured neon of the city above in long, trembling ribbons of red and blue, and it was in this damp, suffocating silence that Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the pier, watching the water churn and swirl, his back to the harbor master’s...
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