The Golden Crossing
The knocking came from the floor of the basement, a rhythmic, hollow thud that vibrated through the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots. It was not the settling of old wood, nor the groan of shifting earth; it was deliberate, persistent, and impossible, for the room below was empty save for the dust and the dark. Elias stood at the top of the stairs, his hand resting on the cold iron railing,...
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