The Distant Legend
The steam hissed from the pressure valves with a rhythmic, metallic exhalation, a sound that had become the metronome of your existence for the last decade. You sat on the cold iron bench in the maintenance bay of the Blackwood Foundry, the air thick with the scent of ozone and stale grease, watching the pistons of the central engine cycle up and down in their endless, indifferent rhythm. Your...
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