The Golden Downtown
The rain fell not in drops but in a continuous, silver sheet that erased the line between the cobblestones and the air itself, blurring the world into a gray smear of stone and shadow where Elias Thorne stood with his back against the cold, damp brick of the apothecary’s back alley, his hands trembling so violently that the heavy iron key in his pocket felt like a live coal against his thigh, a...
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