The Golden Maze
The chisel is a three-penny instrument, Silas, and I have paid for this one in blood and debt. I looked up from the steel plate, my hands trembling not from the cold, but from the weight of the metal that seemed to press down on my vision like a heavy lead curtain. The workshop was silent save for the rhythmic *tick-tick-tick* of the clock on the wall, a sound that usually soothed me, but today...
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