The Golden Oath
October 14, 1912 The Hum is louder today. It vibrates in the fillings of my teeth, a low, tectonic groan that rises from the foundations of Oakhaven. I have been at the workbench for six hours, polishing the escapement of the Great Meridian. The brass is cold to the touch, but my hands are burning. I need this clock to work. I need it to predict the rain before it falls, the cold before it...
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