The Golden Song
The ink bled into the fiber of the page, a dark stain spreading like a bruise under skin, as Elias Thorne pressed his thumb firmly against the corner of the 1948 municipal report to keep it flat under the weight of the heavy brass paperweight. The office was windowless, a concrete box deep within the Ministry of Cultural Heritage, and the air smelled of dry rot and the metallic tang of old iron...
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