The Golden Song
The iron lungs of the factory breathed a steady, rhythmic sigh that vibrated through the floorboards of the watchtower, a low-frequency hum that Elara had felt in her marrow since childhood. She sat on the edge of the cot, her back straight, her hands resting on her knees, fingers interlaced with a precision that betrayed a soldier’s discipline rather than a girl’s restlessness. The tower was a...
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