The Distant Metropolis
The hammer struck the glass, and the sound was not a crash but a shriek, a high-pitched tear that split the silence of the workshop like a wound in the skin of the world. Elias Vane stood in the center of the room, his hands still raised, trembling with the aftershock of the impact. Before him lay the remains of the great orrery, a clockwork marvel of brass and silver that had taken him three...
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