The Golden Crossing
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of Millhaven into a slick, black mirror that reflected the gas lamps in trembling, amber shivers. Elias Thorne stood at the window of his workshop, his reflection a ghostly smudge against the glass. He was a man of hands, a restorer of antique clocks, a craftsman who believed that time could be mended if one only had the patience...
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