The Golden Master
The fire had taken the roof first, then the shelves, and finally the silence that had held the house together for thirty years. Elias Thorne woke with the taste of ash on his tongue, a gritty, metallic film that coated the back of his throat. He was forty-two, though he felt older, his joints stiff with a cold that seemed to radiate from the very stones of the ruin. The library was gone,...
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