The Golden Cellar
The ledger sat open on the workbench, its pages thick with the dust of four decades, and Elias Thorne counted the hours of labor he had lost since the key vanished, each hour a small, sharp coin dropped into a bottomless well. He was forty years old, a master clockmaker whose hands had once been as steady as the escapement mechanisms he built, but tonight they trembled slightly as he traced the...
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