The Wistful Campus
The ballroom of the old Foundry Hall was a cavern of suffocating opulence, its air thick with the cloying sweetness of wilted lilies and the metallic tang of fear that seemed to seep up from the very cobblestones beneath the polished parquet, a place where the ghosts of industrial titans still whispered their ledgers to the chandeliers that dripped with cold, crystalline light. Major Elias...
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