The Golden Circuit
The ink was dry. It had been dry for three days. The seal was broken. The town of Oakhaven smelled of wet wool and fear. Elias Thorne sat at his desk. The wood was oak. It was old. It was strong. It was his only possession of value. He held the letter in his hand. The paper was thick. It was cream. It bore the crest of the Guild. A hammer. A chain. A broken link. He did not read it. He knew the...
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