The Golden Visit
The golden astrolabe lay on the splintered threshold, its brass surface cold to the touch, reflecting the grey light of the early morning. Elias Thorne stood in the doorway of his office, the wood of the door hanging by a single hinge, the air in the room already thick with the scent of sawdust and damp stone. He did not pick it up. He looked at the note pinned to the instrument, the...
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