The Iron Spine

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2026-06-16 18:38:48 -

The Iron Spine

The fog that December clung to London like a shroud, thick and yellow and smelling of coal smoke and river rot. Tom Grime walked through it the way he had walked through his twenty-two years: shoulders hunched, eyes on the cobblestones, making himself as small as possible. The workhouse had expelled him three weeks ago. Not that they had ever taken him in formally—he had simply been too weak to...

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