The Golden Quest
The dream arrived not as a vision but as a weight, a heavy, wet blanket of gold leaf that pressed against the back of Thomas Bradshaw’s skull until he woke with the taste of copper and old varnish on his tongue, the air in the Victorian manor thick with the scent of beeswax and the quiet, persistent decay of wood that had stood too long in the rain. He lay still for a long moment, his eyes...
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