The Golden Echoes
The chandelier above the long oak table of the Ashworth estate hummed with a low, metallic resonance, a sound Julian Ashworth had spent forty years learning to ignore. It was the sound of gold leaf under tension, of crystal prisms catching the light of three hundred candles, and it was the sound of his own fiftieth year arriving with the weight of a collapsing arch. He stood at the head of the...
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