The Golden Master
The rain had been falling for three days, a steady, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into a slick, reflective mirror, and you stood at the edge of the path where the town ended and the wild moor began, holding the leather-bound journal in your hands as if it were a live coal. You are Arthur Penhaligon, the town archivist, a man who has spent forty years cataloging the dead...
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