The Golden Visit
The dream began not with a sound, but with a weight, a heavy, golden pressure settling upon the chest of Elias Thorne, who lay suspended in the dark of the cellar beneath the old manor of Blackwood Hall. In his hand, he clutched a seal of pure gold, a disc no larger than a walnut, engraved with the interlocking sigils of the High Court and the local Guild of Ironworkers. The metal was warm,...
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