The Wistful Skyline
The hammer fell with a sound like a bone breaking. Silas Vane did not flinch. He was not afraid of the blow, nor of the blood that slicked his palm against the rough handle. He was afraid of the silence that followed, the sudden, heavy stillness of the workshop that smelled of sawdust, pine resin, and the metallic tang of his own fear. He had been working on the frame for three days. Three days...
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