The Faded Quadrant
The dream was always the same, a loop of fractured gold and marble dust that Elias Thorne woke to with the taste of copper on his tongue and a phantom warmth searing the center of his right palm, a heat that persisted long after the sleep had faded, burning against the skin of his hand as if he were still holding the heavy, gold signet ring his father had worn until the day he died. Elias sat...
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