The Golden Master
The iron key lay in the center of the oak table, its teeth worn smooth by decades of turning locks that had long since rotted into silence. It was a small thing, a cold, dead weight of metal that held the memory of every door it had ever breached, and it sat there in the stark, candlelit room like a confession waiting to be read. Captain Silas Thorne did not look at the key. He looked at his...
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