The Golden Farce
The stone of Blackgate Prison did not merely hold the damp; it exhaled it. Elias Thorne stood in the center of Cell 404, his fingers wrapped around the Gilded Cuff, the relic warm and humming against his palm like a living thing. He was thirty-two years old, a warden by title and a prisoner by nature, bound to these walls by a curse that whispered his true name in a voice like grinding gravel....
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