The Golden Maze
The fog did not roll in; it erupted, a wall of wet, gray silence that swallowed the steel ribs of the foundry before the first siren could finish its shriek. It was the kind of morning that stripped the world of its edges, reducing the vast, soot-stained expanse of the industrial district to a single, breathing monolith. Elias Thorne stood at the center of the main floor, his boots planted...
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