The Faded Sutra
The first thing Elias Thorne did was count the hairs on the back of his hand, a nervous tick he had developed in the last decade of his life, before he lifted the casing of the Victorian mantel clock. The wood was oak, dark and dense, smelling of old varnish and the damp that seeped through the floorboards of his workshop in the village of Oakhaven. He had been repairing this specific clock for...
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