The Wistful Skyline
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a persistent, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world and dissolved the distinction between the stone of the estate and the earth beneath it. Inside the high-ceilinged workshop of the Ashworth manor, the air was thick with the scent of wet oak and the metallic tang of fresh iron filings. Elias sat at his bench, his hands resting on the...
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