The Golden Echoes
The bell rang. Not a church bell. A shop bell. Brass and bright. It shook the air in the glass shop. Silas stared at the door. It was closed. He had locked it. He was sure. "Who's there?" he called. His voice was thin. It scraped the dust. No answer. Only the hum. The air hummed. A low, golden hum. Silas turned. The workbench was empty. The lamp was dead. But the glass was glowing. A single...
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