The Golden Harbor
The file slipped between the gears of the mainspring, a tiny sliver of brass that had no business being there, and Elias Thorne’s breath hitched in his throat as the mechanism shuddered to a stop. He did not pull the tool out immediately; instead, he watched the dust motes dance in the shaft of afternoon light that cut through the workshop’s grime, wondering if the silence was a punishment or a...
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