The Golden Master
"You have it again." The voice was low, scraped raw by the smoke of the coal furnace that hummed in the corner of the workshop. It belonged to Elias, my brother, who stood by the window with his back to the light, making his face a hollow mask of shadow. I did not look up from the bench. My hands were busy with the tweezers, the tiny glass shards of the locket I was repairing. The metal was...
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