The Faded Guest
The iron lungs of the factory city, a sprawling beast of soot and steam that breathed its black breath into the pale Scottish mist, had long since forgotten the name of the man who stood in the center of the Grand Hall of the Ironclad, a structure that rose like a tombstone against the grey sky, its windows dark and unblinking as the eyes of dead saints. It was the year of the Great Silence, or...
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