The Distant Machine
The rain had been falling on the city of Oakhaven for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the cobblestones into slick, black mirrors and turned the air into a thick, wet wool that choked the lungs. Elias Thorne stood in the alleyway behind the old assize court, his boots squelching in the muck, his hands trembling not from the cold but from the vibration that hummed in the bones of...
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