The Golden Quest
Thorne. The name hung in the air, sharp and final, spoken by the city clerk with the same bored flatness one might use to call out a lost dog. Elias Thorne did not look up. He was looking at the blueprints, his fingers tracing the load-bearing arches of the rotunda, the paper trembling under his grip. The building hummed. It was a low, sub-audible thrum that started in the soles of his shoes...
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