The Golden Harbor
The ledger is empty, Elias. That is what I need you to understand before you start looking for ghosts in the binding. I sat in the archive room, the air thick with the scent of decaying vellum and the damp, metallic tang of the November rain lashing against the high, barred windows of Blackwood Estate. The volume in my hands, the late Lord’s private account book for the years 1998 through 2004,...
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