The Obsidian Cage
(V-01: Victorian Melancholy) The dampness of the London underground was not merely a condition of the architecture; it was a living entity that breathed against Arthur's skin. For three years, the only sun he had known was the flickering amber of a torch held by a guard who smelled of stale tobacco and indifference. Arthur, once a man of letters and political conviction, was now a ghost in a...
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