The Golden Harbor
The rain had been falling on the grey slate roofs of Oakhaven for three days, a persistent, cold weeping that seemed to seep into the very marrow of the stone and the people who lived within it. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the pier, his hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold, watching the harbor entrance where the fog lay thick and white like a shroud over the...
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