The Golden Harbor
The paper was thin, the ink smudged where a thumb had rested too long. Elias Thorne held the safety certification to the light, the fibers of the document stark against the amber glow of the harvest lanterns. It was a simple form, a bureaucratic shell for a lie that the town of Blackwater had been telling for three years. He signed his name, the pen scratching against the page, and handed it to...
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