The Golden Myth
The ink on the ledger was still wet when Elias Thorne noticed the stain. It was a small thing, a smear of black across the column of numbers, but in the quiet of the archive room, it looked like a bruise. He rubbed his thumb against it. The paper did not tear. It held. Elias worked for the Ministry of Reconstruction. It was a grand title for a modest job. His desk sat in a corner of the...
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