The Golden Song
The fire did not start with a spark, but with a roar that swallowed the silence of the night. Captain Elias Thorne stood in the hallway of the Ashworth manor, the heat pressing against his face like a physical weight, and watched the beams above him glow a sickly, pulsating orange. The house was dying. It had been dying for thirty years, in a slow, industrial decay that no amount of polish...
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