The Golden Master
The carriage wheels grind against the gravel as you climb the long, steep path to St. Jude’s, the air growing thicker with the scent of damp stone and decaying paper. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and you have come here to audit the library, a task that feels less like professional duty and more like a penance. In your pocket, the letter from the solicitor lies folded, its edges...
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