The Golden Song
The iron gate of New Albion did not creak so much as it groaned, a low, tectonic sound that seemed to rise from the very bedrock of the city, vibrating through the cobblestones and into the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots. He stood at the threshold of his cell, a narrow chamber carved from the living rock of the cliffside, where the dampness of the sea air mingled with the stale, metallic scent...
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