The Distant Clue
The air in the sub-basement of the Sterling Textile Mill did not smell of wool or dye, but of ozone and burnt copper, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias Thorne’s throat with every shallow breath he took as the floor shuddered beneath his feet. He stood frozen, one hand gripping the cold, vibrating railing of the catwalk, watching as the massive industrial looms below him groaned in a...
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