The Golden Echoes
The steam hissed through the copper veins of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, a constant, low-frequency thrum that Elias Thorne had come to rely upon as much as his own heartbeat. It was November, 1912, and the air in the director’s office was thick with the scent of pipe tobacco and old paper, a cloying atmosphere that clung to the back of Thorne’s throat. He stood before the mahogany desk,...
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