The Golden Echoes
The count began at dawn, as it always did, with the precise measurement of the seconds that had slipped away. Elias Thorne sat in the blue-grey light of his workshop, his fingers stained with oil and the dark residue of the central city clock’s mainspring, counting the ticks of the small brass pocket watch in his hand. One, two, three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve....
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