The Golden Myth
The tongs trembled in Elias Thorne’s hand as he lifted the signet ring from the crucible, the gold glowing with a heat that should have been blinding but felt instead like the warmth of a living pulse against his palm. He had been working on this piece for three days, ignoring the ache in his lower back and the smell of sulfur that clung to his hair, because the ring was not merely a...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews