The Golden Harbor
The rain in Millhaven did not fall so much as it hung, a grey, industrial mist that clung to the cobblestones of the square and the wool of Dr. Elias Thorne’s coat. His fingers, white-knuckled and trembling, wrapped around the gold pocket watch of his dead brother, Arthur. It was a heavy thing, the casing warm against his palm, ticking with a rhythm that defied the clock tower above. Elias was...
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