The Golden Quest
The rain in Bristol did not fall so much as it hung, a grey, static curtain that blurred the edges of the world and pressed the city into a single, damp exhale. Inside the old stone townhouse on Queen Square, where the air smelled of wet wool and the slow decay of varnish, Silas Thorne moved with the deliberate, aching precision of a man who had forgotten how to let his bones rest. He was...
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