The Golden Myth
The fire started in the chimney, or so the neighbors said. It began with a cough of smoke that smelled of sulfur and burnt sugar, then a roar that shook the floorboards of the Victorian house on Elm Street. Elias Thorne was not a man who believed in luck, but in that first moment, as the heat lashed at his face and the windows shattered inward, he felt the strange, cold pull of inevitability....
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