The Golden Crossing
The city breathes in stone. You know this. You have known it for thirty years, ever since you first held the heavy, brass-bound folio in your hands and felt the pulse of the archives beneath your fingertips. You are a keeper of records. A scholar of the silent. Your name is Edward Ashworth, and you are small, unremarkable, and terrified of the men who walk with the confidence of those who own...
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