The Golden Crossing
The brass gear slips between your fingers, cold and heavy, and you drop it into the velvet tray with a clatter that sounds like a bone breaking in the silence of the workshop. You are Elias Thorne, and you have been a clockmaker for twenty years, but today your hands are trembling so violently that you cannot hold the tweezers, and the Great Meridian Clock, which has kept the time of Oakhaven...
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