The Wistful Silence
The hammer fell for the four hundred and twelfth time, striking the heated steel with a sound like a bone breaking under a boot. Elias counted the blows in his head, a rhythmic tally that kept the mind steady against the heat rising from the forge, a heat that had baked the moisture from his skin until his joints creaked with the dryness of old wood. He was forty years old, and his hands,...
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