The Golden Crossing

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2026-08-23 09:53:03 -

The dream is always the same, a blinding, white-gold heat that presses against the back of my eyelids until I gasp awake, the sheets tangled around my legs like wet clay. It is October, and the air in the house is thick with a fine, shimmering dust that settles on the pillow beside me, catching the faint grey light of dawn. I am Elias Vane, forty-two years old, and I am dying of a grief that...

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