The Golden Echoes
The rain fell in sheets against the glass of the penthouse office, blurring the city lights below into streaks of amber and gray. Elias Thorne stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, the leather of his gloves creaking softly in the silence. He was a man of few words, a creature of rigid habit and quiet despair. For thirty years, he had served the Chancellor, a man whose will was...
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