The Golden Quest
The air in the kitchen tasted of burnt sugar and old dust, a cloying sweetness that clung to the back of Marcus Thorne’s throat as he stood before the oak table, his hands trembling not from the cold that seeped through the walls of their ancestral home in rural West Virginia, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the object resting in the center of the wood, a brass compass that had belonged...
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