The Golden Quest
Thorne, stop fidgeting with that piece of scrap metal. Elias looked up from the folding chair, his knuckles white around the brass compass. The object was small, no larger than a pocket watch, but it vibrated against his palm with a low, persistent hum that he felt in his teeth. The air in the Oakhaven Community Hall smelled of damp wool and floor wax, a scent that clung to the back of his...
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