The Pale Fracture
The furnace roared. It was a low, constant vibration that we felt in our teeth before we heard it with our ears. The air in the workshop was thick with the smell of hot iron and ozone. I sat at the bench, my hands steady, my mind sharp. I was twelve. I was the best. The room was small. The walls were bare brick, stained black by years of soot. There were only two other people in the space....
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