The Golden Echoes
The loom shuddered, a low mechanical groan that vibrated through the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots and up into the marrow of his shins. He did not look up from the tension gauge. The needle hovered in the red zone, trembling with the erratic pulse of a machine that had outlived its purpose but not its hunger. Around him, the textile mill hummed with the breath of two hundred workers, a...
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