The Golden Myth
The fever had settled into Elias Thorne’s bones by the time the rain began to hammer against the slate roof, a rhythmic, persistent knocking that sounded less like weather and more like a debt collector demanding entry. He sat at the mahogany desk in Silas’s study, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old paper, trying to focus on the ledger before him while his vision blurred at the...
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