The Golden Harbor
The fog in Blackwood did not rise; it pressed against the windowpanes of the captain’s quarters like a wet, gray hand, muffling the distant groan of the harbor chains and the rhythmic, metallic clatter of the ship’s pumps below. Elias Thorne woke with a gasp that tore through his throat, a raw, scraping sound that felt like rust being dragged over iron, and he sat up in the dark, his heart...
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