The Golden Oath
The sky did not turn black. It turned grey. A heavy, industrial slate that pressed down upon the valley of Ashworth, smothering the smoke from the chimneys until it hung in the air like a thick, unbreathable fog. The machines stopped. Not with a clang, but with a long, shuddering exhale. The great iron lungs of the mill died. Then, the silence came. It was a silence so profound it felt like a...
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