The Golden Visit
The dream began with the smell of ozone and wet copper. It was not a pleasant scent. It was the smell of the machine. Elias stood before the great brass engine in his workshop, the air thick with a static charge that made his hair stand on end. The engine was not a steam engine, nor was it a clock. It was a boundary. A membrane of polished metal and glass that separated the town of Oakhaven...
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