The Golden Quest
The letter was warm, and that was the first thing wrong with it, sitting on the kitchen table like a piece of raw meat left out in the sun. "Put it down, Arthur," Elara said, her voice a dry rasp that scraped against the silence of the cottage. She did not look at me; she was staring at the window where the mist clung to the glass, thick as wool, blocking out the gray afternoon. "You are...
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