The Golden Harbor
The thump came again, a heavy, rhythmic pulse that vibrated through the floorboards and into the marrow of Arthur Vane’s shins. He pressed his back against the cold brick of the attic wall, his breath misting in the drafty air, and watched the dust motes dance in the sliver of gray light cutting through the boarded window. His father, Silas, stood by the hatch, his silhouette rigid and...
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