The Golden Oath
The chisel in Elias Thorne’s hand did not merely cut; it sang. It was a low, resonant hum that vibrated up through his wrist and settled deep in the marrow of his forearm, a frequency that had accompanied the craft for three generations of his family. He stood before the crumbling facade of the Ashworth estate, the late master’s final project, and felt the weight of the guild’s expectations...
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