The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-18 12:21:02 -

The smell of burnt sugar and sulfur hung in the air, thick and cloying, a physical weight that pressed against the inside of Ewan Thorne’s skull as he stood at the edge of the great cauldron, his hands trembling not from the heat radiating off the cast-iron rim but from the sheer, terrifying intimacy of the task at hand, which was to feed the beast not with coal or wood, but with the distilled...

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