The Golden Visit
The forge in the valley of Ashwood did not burn with fire, but with a silence so heavy it pressed against the eardrums like deep water. Elara Vane, the blacksmith, worked in this absolute quiet, her hammer striking the glowing metal not with a clang, but with a dull, rhythmic thud that seemed to come from inside her own bones. The village of Oakhaven, perched on the ridge above, watched her...
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