The Golden Downtown
The iron lungs of the city did not breathe, they convulsed, sucking the grey smog of the coal yards into a cavernous throat that never seemed to fill. Inside the rotunda of the Central Exchange, a place of polished marble and whispered fortunes, Elias Thorne stood alone with the weight of a broken sword in his hands. It was not a blade of steel, but a ledger, its pages swollen with moisture and...
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