The Golden Suspect
The ink on your knuckles is not merely a mark of labor; it is a topography of your life, a map of every letter you have written in the silent, cold hours of the night while the world outside the high tower slept. You are Thomas, though to the men of the Council, you are simply the Keeper of the Seal, a title that has slowly eroded the person beneath it until you are indistinguishable from the...
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