The Golden Ritual
The wrench was heavy, a cold iron thing that felt less like a tool and more like a bone pulled from the earth. Elias Thorne held it up to the light of the foundry, turning it over in his gloved hands, checking the weight against the balance of his soul. Behind him, the Ironworks hummed, a low, tectonic vibration that rattled the teeth in his skull and settled deep in his marrow. It was 1912,...
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