The Golden Harbor
The fog rolled in before the bell struck six, a thick, grey wall that swallowed the harbor mouth and silenced the gulls. Elias Thorne stood at the window of his workshop, watching the mist erase the line between the water and the sky, his breath misting in the cold air that seeped through the cracked panes. He was a man of precision, a clockmaker whose hands could adjust a mainspring to the...
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