The Golden Ritual
The rain streaks the window of the workshop in Harrowgate, blurring the industrial skyline into a smear of grey and rust, and you stand before the workbench where the half-finished mechanism of the Golden Ritual clock lies open like a dissected heart, your fifty-two-year-old hands trembling with a violence that makes the tweezers slip from your grip. You are Elias Thorne, a clockmaker who has...
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