The Golden Downtown
The iron chain hung from the rafters of the high vaulted hall, swinging with a slow, pendulous grace that marked the passing of time more accurately than any clock could. It was a magnificent piece of work, forged by hands now long cold in the earth, a sequence of heavy, interlocking links that gleamed with a dull, golden lustre in the torchlight. The air in the chamber was thick, heavy with...
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