The Faded Paradox
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the mud outside the Thorne workshop into a slurry that sucked at the boots of anyone who dared approach. Elias packed the last of his tools, the brass calipers and the tiny screwdrivers, into the leather roll. His hands trembled, not from the cold, but from the weight of the debt owed to Magistrate Vane. He pulled on his father’s velvet coat. The...
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