The Distant Crown
The city of Ashport did not sleep; it merely held its breath between the chugging of the locomotives and the hiss of the steam valves. In the year of the Iron Fog, the sky was a bruised purple, heavy with the smoke of ten thousand coal furnaces, and the streets below were slick with a grime that seemed to have grown there over centuries. Elias Thorne stood on the precipice of the unfinished...
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