The Obsidian
The Obsidian LordI.The machine hummed in the cellar like a wounded beast. Arthur Blackwood stood before it, pale as wax beneath the gaslight, his fingers trembling as they hovered above the brass levers and glass tubes. The Phantasmagoria was three feet tall and four across, a monstrosity of copper wire, spinning gyroscopes, and the great Tesla coil that his anonymous patron had procured from a...
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