The Golden Crossing
The ink moves before you do. You sit at the desk in the sub-basement of the Meridian Institute, the air thick with the scent of decaying paper and the metallic tang of fear. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a cartographer who has spent two decades drawing borders that do not exist. You want the Golden Crossing. You want out. The map is nearly finished, the red lines bleeding into the...
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