The Pale Bridge
The banquet hall of the Ironworks Company was a cavern of soot and starlight, the ceiling lost in a haze of cigarette smoke and the heavy, metallic scent of the forge. It was a place where the air itself seemed to vibrate with the low hum of industry, a subterranean thrum that traveled through the floorboards and into the bones of every guest. At the center of this sprawling, gilded room,...
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