The Golden Crossing
The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the sky, a persistent, gray mist that clung to the soot-stained brick of the town hall. Elias Thorne stood before the council chamber, his uniform pressed to a sharp, military precision that seemed absurd against the damp, peeling wallpaper. He was thirty-four, a sergeant with the rank of a man who had seen too much and said too...
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