The Golden Farce
The dream was always the same. Elias Thorne was submerged in a river of molten gold, the metal not liquid but leaf, thin as breath and heavy as lead, pressing against his lungs until he could not expand them. He woke with the taste of copper on his tongue, the sheets twisted around his legs like ropes. Outside the window of his rented room in the valley, the new factory of Lord Vane stood...
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