The Golden Harbor
The heavy oak door of the Chancellery did not creak when Dr. Elias Thorne entered, nor did it announce his presence with the usual dust motes dancing in the shafts of afternoon light, but rather it seemed to swallow the sound of his footsteps whole, a velvet silence that pressed against his eardrums with a suffocating intimacy, as if the building itself were holding its breath in anticipation...
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