The Golden Farce
The dream was a static hum, a grey mist that clung to the bones of the city of Oakhaven. In that liminal space, Elias Thorne saw the city not as it was, but as it had been promised: a cathedral of iron and light, where the hum of the looms was replaced by the singing of steam. But the mist had a texture, coarse and fibrous, like the weave of a garment that had been worn too many times. He woke...
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