The Golden Myth
Chapter One “You are late again, Rena,” said Mr. Vane, his voice dry as the dust that settled on the ledgers in the counting house. The smell of damp wool and old paper hung heavy in the air, a scent that seemed to seep into the bones of anyone who spent too long beneath the vaulted ceiling. I stood there, clutching the bronze door-pivot I had found in the ruins of the old toll bridge, my hands...
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