The Golden Quest
The spatula scraped the bottom of the copper pot, a rhythmic, metallic scraping that cut through the low hum of the gala crowd outside the kitchen doors, and Elias Thorne measured out the last pinch of the grey powder with a hand that did not tremble, not because he was calm, but because his body had forgotten how to do anything else. He was forty-two years old, a master confectioner in a city...
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