The Golden Quest
Thorne, you are late. The voice of Director Halloway did not carry across the marble floor of the Customs House atrium, yet it settled in your chest with the weight of a dropped hammer, cold and final. You looked up from your desk, where the morning light was already failing, catching the dust motes that danced in the stagnant air of your cubicle. On the surface of your blotter, resting atop a...
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