The Golden Master
Could the gold be made to remember its shape? Giovanni Lombardi stood before the shattered remains of the vessel, the air in the galley tasting of brine and burnt ozone. The Golden Master, once a sacred alchemical heart, had exploded in a blinding flash that left the walls scorched and the silence absolute. He was a captain of the Black Watch, a man accustomed to the weight of duty, but now his...
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