The Golden Harbor
The lock is stiff, Elias, it has been stiff for a hundred years, and you are the only one with the strength to force it now. You stand before the heavy oak door of the east wing, the iron key biting into the meat of your palm. It is 1893, and the air in the hallway is thick with the smell of wet rot and old copper. Your grandfather died three days ago, leaving you the house, the debts, and this...
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