The Golden Harbor
The glass was cooling in Elias’s hands, a molten amber weight that resisted the gentle pull of his breath, and it was in that precise moment of tension, when the bubble threatened to collapse under its own gravity, that the Guild Master’s shadow fell across the workshop floor. Elias did not look up; he knew the weight of Alderman Vane’s presence, a heavy, bureaucratic thing that smelled of damp...
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