The Distant Whispers
The hammer rang against the anvil, a sharp, metallic cry that cut through the humid air of the forge. It was a sound that had defined Elias Thorne’s life for forty years, a rhythmic heartbeat of iron and fire that now seemed to mock him with its persistence. He stood before the glowing coals, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps, his hands trembling so violently that the tongs slipped...
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