The Golden Visit
The transport was not a vehicle but a state of being, a suspension of gravity that left Elias Thorne floating in a void of amber light. He had been a man of the law, a keeper of boundaries, for forty years. His uniform, now tattered and stained with a dust that smelled of ozone and old copper, hung heavy on his frame. In this place, the concept of time had dissolved. It was not past, nor...
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