The Distant Legend
The mainspring needed forty-two turns to hold the tension. Elias counted them aloud, his voice a dry rasp in the drafty tower. One, two, three. The iron coil resisted, then yielded with a groan that sounded like a dog clearing its throat. He had done this ten thousand times, yet today the metal felt different. It felt aware. For twenty years, Elias Thorne had kept the secret of the Grand...
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