The Last Watcher of the Clockwork
(Variant V-01: Victorian Melancholy) The sky above the Aethelgard Observatory was not a sky at all, but a vast, interlocking ceiling of brass and iron. For three hundred years, my ancestors had watched the Great Clockwork, the celestial mechanism that drove the rotation of the spheres and the pulse of time itself. But the mechanism was failing. Or rather, it was being reclaimed. I remember the...
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