The Golden Harbor
The rain did not fall so much as it seeped, a grey mist that clung to the windowpanes of the estate like a widow’s veil. You stood by the fire, the heat a distant, indifferent comfort against the damp chill that had settled into your bones. In your hands, you held the iron bell. It was cold, heavier than it looked, its surface pitted with the age of the house. It had been here since before your...
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