The Golden Quest
The morning light entered the Hall of Records not as a blessing, but as an accusation. It slanted through the high, arched windows, catching the dust motes that danced in the stale air, illuminating the rows of iron filing cabinets that stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. Elias Thorne stood before his desk, his back rigid, his hands folded neatly on the polished oak surface. He was a man who...
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