The Golden Myth

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2026-08-22 15:07:52 -

The Golden Myth

The air in the banquet hall was thick, heavy with the scent of roasted pheasant and the sharper, metallic tang of spilled wine, a cloying atmosphere that pressed against the skin like a damp wool blanket. Elias Thorne stood by the pillar, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the chandelier sway gently above the dancers, its crystal pendants catching the light and scattering it into a...

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