The Golden Echoes
The rain hammered against the corrugated steel roof of the Blackwood Hydroelectric Plant, a rhythmic, metallic drumming that Elias Thorne felt in his teeth. He stood on the rusted catwalk, forty-two years old, clutching a brass tuning fork that had belonged to his sister Mara. The fork was fractured, its tines uneven, yet it hummed with a low, persistent vibration that matched the frequency of...
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