The Flesh Machine
The village of Oakhaven was a place of perpetual twilight, where the mist clung to the jagged peaks of the Alps and the locals spoke in hushed tones about the "Curse of the Valley." In a crumbling manor that smelled of formaldehyde and old parchment, Victor lived in a cellar that was less a room and more a tomb. He was a youth of nineteen, but his body was a map of failures—a twisted spine that...
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