The Golden Echoes
The pickaxe bit into the shale with a sound like a bone snapping, and Elias Thorne felt the vibration travel up through the calluses of his palms, settling deep in the marrow of his forearms where the cold had begun to live three months ago. He was thirty-two years old, which meant he had spent nearly half his life breathing dust that tasted of iron and old earth, and in that time he had...
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