The Golden Harbor
The blistering pain erupts before the sound of the coffin lid settling, a searing white heat that climbs your wrist and seizes your shoulder, forcing a cry from your throat that dies in the dusty air of the workshop. You are Elias, thirty-two, a goldsmith in the plague-stricken Bruges of 1348, and you are holding the seal of your late master, a disc of cold gold that burns the skin of any liar...
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