The Golden Harbor
The feast in the Great Hall of the Ashworth Institute was a cacophony of silver clinking against porcelain and the low, resonant hum of men discussing the architecture of the soul, a sound that vibrated in your molars and settled heavy in your chest like swallowed lead. You sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, your fingers wrapped tightly around a glass of wine that had turned warm in...
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