The Iron Curse of Blackwood Station
The siege had lasted ninety-three days. Arthur Blackwood stood at the parapet of Blackwood Station, the northernmost fortress of the fallen Empire, and watched the enemy campfires spread across the valley like a constellation of malignant stars. The wind carried the smell of woodsmoke and something worse—something organic and sweet, like rotting meat left in the sun. He turned away from the...
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