The Golden Song
The gold did not gleam; it hummed, a low, tectonic vibration that traveled up the radius and ulna of my left arm until it settled behind my eyes like a second heartbeat. I woke in the narrow bed of my father’s workshop, the air thick with the scent of coal smoke and the metallic tang of fear, and I knew before I opened my eyes that the thing I had buried beneath the straw mattress for three...
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