The Golden Quest
The hammer struck the chisel with a dull, wooden thud, the sound heavy in the small, dusty room. Elias Thorne wiped the sweat from his brow with a forearm that was more dust than skin, the grit grinding against the fabric of his shirt. He was forty years old, and his hands looked sixty, mapped with the white scars of a lifetime spent handling stone and iron. Outside the window, the gray sky of...
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