The Golden Master
The rain was a curtain of iron. It hammered against the slate roof, a relentless drumming that shook the teeth of the old house. Elias stood in the center of the kitchen. The floorboards groaned under his weight. He was not a man. Not anymore. Or rather, he was a man who had become a thing. A vessel for the debt. He looked at his hands. They were large. Calloused. The knuckles were white. He...
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