The Golden Quest
The wet wool of my coat clung to my shivering back as I pinned the clerk’s wrist against the heavy oak of the municipal counter, my knuckles white, the air in the archives thick with the smell of old paper and the metallic tang of my own adrenaline. I was Elias Thorne, forty-two, a junior archivist who had spent the last decade cataloguing the city’s forgotten history, but in that moment I was...
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