The Faded Road
The hammer did not strike the iron, for the iron was already gone, and with it the rhythmic, percussive heartbeat of the forge that had defined the last forty years of Silas Vane’s life, a silence so absolute and profound that it felt less like the absence of sound and more like a physical weight pressing down upon the shoulders of the town of Oakhaven, a place where the cobblestones were worn...
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