The Golden Myth
The rain lashed against the high, narrow windows of the Hall, a rhythmic drumming that matched the thudding of Elias Thorne’s heart. He stood in the shadows of the Great Hall, his hands trembling as he clutched the cold iron key to the vault. For twenty years, he had been the Keeper of the Archives, a man of dust and silence, bound to the stone walls of the Ashworth estate as tightly as ivy to...
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