The Golden Harbor
The carriage wheels groaned against the cobblestones of the valley, a sound like the grinding of old bones, as the autumn mist clung to the skirts of the mountains and swallowed the road ahead in a blanket of grey silence. Aldous Vane sat in the back, his hands resting on the armrests, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm that matched the uneasy pounding in his chest, while the driver, a man...
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