The Golden Harbor
The rain did not fall so much as it invaded, a cold, persistent mist that seeped through the wool of his greatcoat and settled into the marrow of his bones, while the air inside the station’s sub-basement, a concrete labyrinth designated for the containment of anomalous acoustic phenomena, smelled of ozone and wet copper. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the center of the circular holding cell,...
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