The Golden Visit
The rain had not stopped for seven days, turning the cobblestones of the old town into a slick, black mirror that reflected the bruised purple of the sky, and it was in this relentless, dripping twilight that Elias Thorne found himself standing before the heavy, iron-banded door of the house on Wickham Street, a place that had been empty for thirty years yet smelled, when he pushed the handle...
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