The Golden Harbor
The banquet hall of the Thorne & Sons Clockworks smelt of roasted goose and beeswax, a suffocating perfume that clung to the velvet drapes and the faces of the townspeople of Blackwood. Elias Thorne stood at the center of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, feeling the sharp, rhythmic stutter in his chest that mimicked the ticking of the great grandfather clock in the corner. The...
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