The Golden Song
The ledger lay open on the wet stone of the tower floor, its pages yellowed and stiff with damp. Elias Thorne traced the final entry with a calloused thumb, the ink smearing slightly under the pressure of his grip. The contract was simple: complete the golden bell by the winter solstice, or forfeit the balance of his wages. He had three days left. The air in the tower was thin and cold,...
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