The Golden Crossing
The rain in Oakhaven did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of the square into slick, black mirrors, and Elias Thorne stood beneath the eaves of the Town Hall, watching the water drip from the stone lip in a rhythm that matched the hammering of his own heart, which was beating not with fear but with a cold, crystalline certainty that the object in...
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