The Golden Harbor
The coin was warm, gritty with sand, and heavy enough to bruise the palm if held too long. Elias Thorne turned it over in the lamplight of the lighthouse kitchen, the brass surface tarnished black in the recesses of the eagle’s feathers. It was a piece of his father’s debt, a tangible slice of the ruin that had swallowed the estate three years ago, and now it was the only thing left that felt...
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