The Golden Quest
The rain hits the slate roof of St. Jude’s Chapel like a handful of gravel thrown by a spiteful child, and you are there, kneeling in the mud, trying to keep your head above the rising water. It is November, 1893, and the air tastes of iron and rot, a metallic tang that coats the back of your throat and refuses to leave. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and your lungs feel like they...
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