The Golden Harbor
The fog had a taste, Elias knew, like copper coins left in a mouth too long. It sat on the back of his tongue, thick and metallic, a flavor that did not belong to the harbor or the salt air but to the small glass vial in his breast pocket. He pressed his thumb against the cold glass, feeling the faint vibration of the liquid inside, a pulse that matched the erratic thumping of his own heart. He...
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