The Golden Echoes
The needle slips through the gold thread for the third time, and you curse under your breath, a sound that dies instantly in the heavy, wool-damp air of the watchroom. Your hand, which has held a heavy iron staff for twelve years without complaint, now trembles with a fine, persistent vibration that makes the delicate work of mending impossible. The brooch, a small, intricate piece of filigree...
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