The Golden Harbor
"Elara." The voice comes from the doorway, low and clipped, cutting through the humid silence of the archive. It is Dr. Aris, and he does not step inside. He stands in the frame of the door, his coat buttoned to the throat despite the stifling heat of the room, his eyes fixed on the stack of index cards on my desk. The air in here is thick, heavy with the smell of decaying paper and the damp,...
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