The Golden Myth
The rain in Vesper City did not fall so much as it hung, a suspended gray veil that turned the cobblestones into mirrors reflecting a sky that no longer existed, and Elias Thorne moved through this wet, breathing labyrinth with the frantic, disjointed energy of a man whose mind was slowly being unwound by the pressure of the stones themselves. He clutched a fractured golden coin in his left...
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