The Golden Echoes
The ledger showed three hundred and twelve hours of overtime since the last shift change. Elias Thorne counted the entries twice, his finger dragging a groove in the dust on the desk. He was forty years old, and the weight of the ledger felt heavier than the oak table it rested on. In Oakhaven, the air tasted of iron and wet coal. It was a taste that sat in the throat like a stone. Thorne...
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