The Golden Harbor
The ink on the page bled, spreading like a bruise across the parchment, and you watched your own signature twist and writhe until it looked less like a name and more like a snarling mouth. "Mr. Thorne," Councilman Vane said, his voice dry as the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of light that pierced the stone hall. "The evidence is irrefutable. The tide pools do not lie, and neither does...
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