The Golden Master
I Setsuko Kimura remembered the sound of the coal offloading first, a rhythmic, wet thud that had once marked the hours in the ferry queue at thirty-one of Stonecutter Alley, but now echoed in the sealed scriptorium as a phantom heartbeat. She stood before the Golden Master, the fragile codex she had spent twenty years preserving, her hands trembling with the first visible signs of age. The...
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