The Golden Crossing
The iron teeth of the debt collector clicked together with the sound of a gate being slammed, a dry, metallic snap that echoed off the rotting gilded walls of the Old Court. Elias Thorne, a sergeant of the Royal Guard whose uniform had gone stiff with sweat and old blood, held the shard of his father’s mirror in his left hand, the glass cold and wet against his palm. The mirror did not show his...
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