The Pale Circus
The air in the mill town of Oakhaven was thick with the metallic taste of iron filings and the damp, rotting sweetness of the river mud, and it was into this suffocating atmosphere that Elias Thorne stepped, his hands trembling not from the cold that bit through his woolen coat, but from the sudden, violent realization that the ledger he clutched against his chest was no longer a record of...
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