The Golden Echoes
The dream was always the same, a cacophony of shattering glass that vibrated in the teeth and bones before the sound even reached the ears, and Elias Thorne woke with the taste of copper and old dust in his mouth, the fog of Oakhaven pressing against the windowpanes like a living thing seeking entry. He was thirty years old, a constable of the hamlet, a man whose life had been defined by the...
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