The Golden Harbor
The mist that clung to the jagged, slate-colored cliffs of the Blackwood Estate was not merely weather, but a living, breathing entity that seemed to seep into the marrow of the young boy, Elias, who stood before the towering, iron-bound gate of the Orphanage of St. Jude’s, his small fingers white-knuckled around the strap of his battered leather satchel, watching the heavy oak doors groan open...
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