The Golden Downtown
Elias Thorne, the voice came from the back of the shop, thin and sharp as a snapped wire, cutting through the low, constant thrum that had settled into the floorboards. He did not turn. He kept his eyes on the raw stone resting on the velvet pad in the center of the workbench, its surface dull and grey, yet vibrating with a frequency that made the fillings in his teeth ache. The apprentice, a...
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