The Golden Quest
The ink did not dry; it breathed. Elias Thorne, a man whose hands had spent forty years pressing steel into metal and wood, sat in the dim amber light of his workshop on the edge of the industrial district, watching the black fluid seep from the grooves of the seal he was carving for Mr. Vane. It was a simple commission, a personal crest for a wealthy client who had paid a sum that would clear...
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