The Golden Myth
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into a slick, mirrored abyss reflecting the soot-blackened facades of the town hall and the quiet, shuttered shops, and I stood on the wet steps of the police station, feeling the cold seep through the thin wool of my tunic, a chill that seemed to originate not from the weather but from...
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