The Golden Harbor
The heavy iron key was cold in Elias Thorne’s palm, a weight that seemed to drain the heat from his blood before he could even turn it in the lock. He stood before the rotting facade of Blackwood Manor, the air thick with the scent of wet rot and old copper, while the building itself seemed to inhale the damp fog, its eaves creaking like the joints of a giant waking from a long, fevered sleep....
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