The Golden Myth
The letter lay on the workbench, its edges curling slightly in the humid air, the ink a faded violet that had bled into the paper’s grain like a bruise. Elias Thorne, master glassblower of the Thorne & Sons workshop, stared at the audit notice from the Guild, his fingers trembling not from cold but from the sudden, visceral knowledge that his reputation, built over thirty years of flawless...
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