The Golden Master

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2026-08-19 20:26:49 -

The Golden Master

The rain did not fall. It hovered. A grey mist clung to the windowpanes of the faculty office. The air smelled of wet wool and old paper. I held the manuscript. My fingers trembled. Not from cold. From fear. "You are shaking, Arthur." Dr. Silas Vane stood by the door. He wore his tweed jacket. It was damp at the shoulders. He looked at me with eyes like polished stones. Cold. Deep. Unyielding....

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