The Faded Paradox
The rain tapped a frantic, irregular rhythm against the stained glass of the workshop, a sound that Elias Thorne had long since ceased to hear. It was a sound that existed in the world outside, in the industrial sprawl of soot and iron that choked the valley below, but here, in the high-ceilinged sanctum of his clockmaking shop, the air was still and thick with the scent of cedar shavings and...
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