The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-19 12:08:16 -

You wake in the grey throat of a station that exists only in the fever dreams of the industrial age, a place where the soot from a thousand unseen forges hangs suspended in the air like a fine, choking snow that never quite settles on your uniform. The platform stretches out before you, an infinite corridor of riveted iron and steam, smelling of ozone and old copper, and the silence is so...

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