The Golden Harbor
14 October 1392 The castle gates groaned shut behind me, the sound like a bone snapping. I clutched the Golden Seal to my chest, its weight a cold anchor against my ribs. The Duke’s men were already at the gate, their horses stomping in the mud, but I was gone. I am Elias Thorne, royal archivist, and I have stolen the key to our ruin. The debt is due at moonrise. If I do not decode the seal,...
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