The Golden Circuit
The letter lay on the workbench, its seal broken by Elias’s own trembling thumb, the ink still damp in the cold air of the workshop. It was a simple notice from the Guild of Horologists, stamped with the grey wax of the village magistrate, stating that all private timepieces were to be surrendered for purification by the end of the week. Elias read it three times, the words blurring as the damp...
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