The Golden Harbor

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2026-08-24 04:12:48 -

The Golden Harbor

The ledger was open on the desk, the ink still wet where I had signed my name. I was twelve years old, a scribe to the Duke, and the paper felt slick and cold under my fingers, like a dead fish. Beside it, a single feather lay on the mahogany, gold and sharp. I did not look at the ledger. I looked at the door. Mara was in the next room, breathing in short, rattling bursts that shook the dust...

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