The Golden Echoes
The invoice from the quarry lay on the workbench, its edges frayed and stained with the grey dust of the site. Elias Thorne smoothed the paper with a hand that had not stopped trembling since dawn, his fingers tracing the line item for the gold-veined limestone that was supposed to be inert, solid, and obedient. He signed it without looking up, the pen scratching against the paper like a mouse...
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