The Golden Harbor
The rain did not fall so much as it was thrown, a gray, industrial sleet that turned the mud of the Blackwood Pass into a slick, sucking mire. Captain Elias Thorne wiped the slime from his eyelashes, his breath a white ghost in the freezing air. He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down into the valley where the river churned with the silt of the dying season. Behind him, the heavy thud...
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