The Golden Quest
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended gray mist that clung to the cobblestones of the plaza and seeped into the wool of Elias Thorne’s coat. He stood by the fountain, the water churning in a dark, oily swirl, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that was not steel, but something older, something that hummed against his palm like a second heartbeat. Around him, the...
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