The Corvus Inheritance
The fog that rolled off the Irwell River into Manchester did not behave like ordinary weather. It descended upon the city like a living thing, swallowing the smokestacks and mill chimneys until the sky and the earth seemed to collapse into one another. I stood at the mouth of the abandoned Corvus mine on the edge of Salford and watched it disappear into the dark passage ahead. I was twenty-two...
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