The Golden Myth
The dream was always the same, a recurring nightmare of molten gold shattering against a stone floor, the sound not of impact but of a high, thin scream that vibrated in the teeth. Elias Thorne woke with the taste of copper in his mouth and his hand clamped around the small, cracked sample of the alloy, which hummed against his palm with a frequency that seemed to know his name. He was forty...
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