The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-18 15:27:37 -

The sky above the Iron City was not a sky at all, but a bruised sheet of canvas, stitched shut by gears that turned with a slow, grinding patience. You stood at the edge of the precipice, your boots slick with the oil that ran like blood from the city’s veins, and you watched the great mirror below. It was a sheet of polished steel, vast and curved, suspended in a cage of rusted iron struts. It...

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