The Golden Harbor
The fog does not merely settle upon the city of Harrowgate; it invades it, a thick, saline shroud that erases the boundaries between the cobblestones and the sky, between the living and the ghosts who haunt the interstices of the old brickwork. You stand at the precipice of the harbor wall, your uniform damp not with sweat but with the pervasive chill that seeps through the wool and settles in...
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