The Golden Quest
The hammer struck the anvil again, a dull, wet thud that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards of the shop, and I told the blacksmith that the glass was cracked, that it was a hairline fracture running from the left corner to the center, and that I needed it mended before the winter solstice. He did not look up from the iron he was shaping. The forge light painted his face in shades of rust and...
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