The Golden Harbor
The fog rolled in thick as wool. It smelled of iron and old rot. I wiped the silt from my visor. My breath fogged the glass. "Check the seals, Thomas," I said. My voice sounded thin. Distant. Thomas didn’t answer. He was staring at the water. His face was pale. The pale of a man who has seen something he cannot name. "They are watching us," he whispered. I laughed. A dry, cracking sound. "Who...
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