The Distant Whispers
It is not the cold that breaks the stone, Elias thought, but the way it refuses to let go, the way it grips the chisel with a tenacity that feels less like mineral inertia and more like a slow, deliberate tightening of a fist. He pressed the mallet down, the hammerhead ringing against the iron tip with a dull, heavy thud that vibrated up his arms and settled in his teeth, a sensation that had...
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