The Faded Guest
The clockmaker, Elias Thorne, did not sleep in the old way, nor did he dream of the dead, for the dead in his house were not ghosts but gears, silent and waiting in the dark. He sat alone in the high tower of the manor, the air thick with the scent of brass dust and the faint, metallic tang of old blood, which he had long ago mistaken for the smell of rust. Below him, the city of Oakhaven lay...
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