The Golden Circuit
The dream was of fire that did not burn, a liquid gold that flowed upward into the sky, leaving the earth cold and empty. Elias woke with the taste of iron on his tongue, the sheets tangled around his legs like the vines of a dead hedge. It was the fourteenth of October, in the year of our Lord 1342, and the workshop was silent save for the tick of the cooling crucible in the corner. He dressed...
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