The Distant Machine
The iron shroud of the steam engine groaned, a low, tectonic moan that vibrated through the soles of Silas Thorne’s boots and up the marrow of his shins. He was not fighting a man, nor a beast, but the very architecture of the Imperial Court’s new industrial heart, a labyrinth of brass gears and belching coal furnaces that had swallowed the old palace gardens. The air was thick with the scent...
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