The Distant Summer
"Put the chisel down, boy. Now." Elias Thorne’s voice was not loud, but it carried the weight of a man who had spent forty years breaking rocks, and Julian, the apprentice, froze in the doorway of the workshop, his hands still slick with the grey slurry of lime and sand. The smell of the room hit Elias first, a thick, cloying odor of wet stone and something else, something sweet and rotting...
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