The Golden Quest
The letter lay on the oak desk, its seal broken, the parchment damp with the morning’s condensation, a white square of accusation against the dark wood. Elias Thorne read the words twice, his breath held in his chest like a swallowed stone, the ink blurring slightly at the edges where the humidity had seeped into the fibers. The demand was simple, bureaucratic in its cruelty: a confession of...
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