The Iron Tyrant
The humidity of the Mississippi Delta was a physical weight, a wet blanket that smelled of river mud and rotting magnolia. In the heart of the Blackwood Estate, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and old blood. The Estate was not merely a plantation; it was a machine. Deep beneath the crumbling manor house lay the "Will-Engine," a brass-and-iron monstrosity that emitted a low-frequency...
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