The Golden Oath
The furnace died on the morning of the winter solstice, its heart of white ash cooling in the draft of the workshop, leaving Elias Thorne staring at the only thing he had left that still held a spark of warmth. For twenty years, Elias had blown glass with the precision of a surgeon, his hands shaping silica into vessels that could hold the air of the room without trembling, but now the town’s...
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