The Golden Quest
The salt flats stretched out like a sheet of white paper left out in the rain, blinding and indifferent to the man walking across them. Elias Thorne, fifty-two, a cartographer who had lost his map before he lost his way, walked with a heavy, rhythmic gait that seemed less like movement and more like erosion. In his left pocket, wrapped in oilcloth, sat a small glass vial. It was the only thing...
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