The Golden Harbor
The bell tolled at midnight, a sound that felt less like a warning and more like a fracture in the air. I stood in the courtyard of the Iron Gate, my breath misting in the biting frost. The stone beneath my boots was slick with ice, cold enough to numb the soles of my feet. I had been here for ten years. Ten years of polishing the brass, sweeping the dust, and keeping the ledger of the dead. My...
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