The Golden Crossing
The gold band sat heavy on Elias Thorne’s left ring finger, a small, warm weight against the freezing air of the St. Lawrence. It was the only thing on his body that did not obey the laws of thermodynamics; while the iron of his surveyor’s plumb bob and the steel of his wrench grew brittle and sharp to the touch, the gold remained at a steady, blood-warm temperature. Elias adjusted his grip on...
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