The Golden Song

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2026-08-24 11:46:16 -

The Golden Song

The chisel struck the granite at six in the morning, a sharp, dry crack that echoed up the unfinished shaft of the bell tower. You counted the blows. One. Two. Three. The rhythm was your anchor, the only thing keeping the nausea from rising in your throat. Above you, the sky was a bruised purple, heavy with the threat of snow. Silas stood on the scaffold, his face a mask of grey stone, watching...

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