The Faded Dust
The hammer fell with the rhythmic, percussive certainty of a heartbeat that had long since detached itself from the fragile, trembling pulse of the man who wielded it, striking the anvil in the dim, dust-choked sanctum of the forge where the air hung thick with the metallic tang of molten iron and the sweet, rotting scent of ancient oaken beams that groaned under the weight of centuries. Elias...
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