The Golden Visit
The cathedral was not merely a structure of stone and glass; it was a siege engine. Elias Thorne stood in the nave, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps that sounded like the tearing of old parchment. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and wet granite, a metallic tang that coated the back of his throat. Above him, the vaulted ceiling stretched into a darkness so profound it seemed...
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