The Golden Echoes
The first thing you notice is the sound, a low, golden thrum that vibrates in the teeth and settles deep in the marrow, a frequency that the mason’s trowel cannot scrape away from the stone. You are Elias, forty-two, and your hands are cracked and red, stained with the dust of Oakhaven’s ancient walls, a town where the architecture is not merely built but grown, where every lintel and archway...
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