The Golden Quest
The sound was not a crash but a groan, a deep, tectonic shudder that traveled through the floorboards of the Ministry of Cultural Heritage and up into the bones of Elias Thorne. He was standing in the atrium, holding a clipboard against his chest, when the ceiling of the St. Jude’s Chapel annex gave way. Dust plumed into the air like a white ghost, and for a second, the only sound was the...
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