The Golden Harbor
The fog in Dunmore did not merely settle; it breathed, a cold, damp exhalation that crept through the stone cracks of the town and into the marrow of its inhabitants. It was a city built on the bones of old beliefs, where the cobblestones were slick with the memory of centuries and the air tasted of salt and iron. Elara Vance lived in a narrow house on the Cliffside, a place where the wind...
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