The Golden Circuit
The glass shattered with a sound like a scream held in too tight a grip for too long, sending a cascade of iridescent shards skittering across the polished oak floor of the greenhouse, where the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and dying orchids, and Elias Thorne stood frozen in the center of the shattering, his hands still raised in the gesture of holding back a tide that had already...
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