The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-18 23:37:08 -

The feast was not a celebration of triumph, but a slow, suffocating accumulation of noise that pressed against the eardrums like deep water. Major Elias Thorne sat at the head of a long, scarred table in a hall that existed somewhere between a banquet and a dream, the air thick with the scent of roasting meat and ozone, a smell that clung to the back of the throat and refused to be swallowed....

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