The Anvil of Pi
THE ANVIL OF PIACT ONE: THE EXPLOSIONThe rain came down like nails driven by a mad smith, each drop striking the abandoned forge on Blackwood Hill with the fury of a thousand rejected prayers. Inside, the air smelled of rust and river fog and something older -- the ghost of ten thousand hammered blows that no longer came.Thomas O'Brien stood before the cold anvil, his great hands -- calloused...
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