The Golden Harbor
Chapter One The iron key in my hand was warm, not with the sun, which had not yet risen, but with a heat that seemed to pulse from the marrow of the metal itself. I am Hira Wazir, a border warden of thirty-five years, standing in the fog-choked marshes of the Golden Harbor, and my only desire is to reach the lighthouse by dawn to file the report that will secure my pension, a sum that would...
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