The Golden Crossing
The water in the Blackwater Gorge runs backward for three seconds each dawn, a rhythmic reversal that the locals call the river’s breath, and you stand at the edge of the unfinished suspension bridge, your hand hovering over the anchor bolt, trembling with a palsy that feels less like a symptom and more like a verdict. You are Elias Vane, a bridge inspector for the Meridian Railway, and you...
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