The Golden Harbor
The dream always started with the sound of the rope snapping, a sharp crack that echoed in my skull before I even opened my eyes. I woke in the narrow bunk of my cottage, the fog pressing against the windowpanes like a living thing, and I knew the auction was three days away. I am Elias Vane, a chandler by trade, forty-two years old, and I have spent the last month trying to buy back my...
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