The Wistful Silence
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a smell, a thick, sulfurous tang that curled through the eaves of the mill town of Oakhaven like a ghost refusing to leave its body, and it was this scent, rather than the visible flame, that first signaled the end of everything Elias Thorne had built with his own two hands, and he stood in the doorway of his workshop, the soot already caking the...
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