The Distant Crown
The dream was always the same, a heavy, golden circle resting on a slab of cold grey stone, pressing down on Elias Thorne’s chest with a physical weight that made it difficult to breathe. He woke in the narrow bed of his flat in Whitechapel, the sheets tangled around his legs, the taste of copper still lingering on his tongue. It was four in the morning, and the rain lashed against the...
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