The Golden Song
The wind did not howl in the old observatory, a sound that would have been expected of such a desolate place perched on the edge of the crumbling university campus, but instead it whispered, a low, continuous susurration that seemed to vibrate through the very bones of the stone walls and into the marrow of Elias Thorne, who sat hunched over his desk with the desperate, feverish intensity of a...
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