The Faded Road
The chisel struck the brass gear, sending a shower of golden filings across the mahogany table, and Elias Thorne watched them dance in the shafts of gaslight before settling into the grain of the wood. He did not wipe them away. Instead, his hand drifted to his chest, where the gold pocket watch, a heavy, cold weight against his ribs, hummed with a frequency that had nothing to do with the...
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