The Distant Legend
The separation was not a severing of the cord but a slow, agonizing fraying of the fabric itself, a process that Elias Vane had spent three decades meticulously weaving and now watched with a detached, scholarly horror as it unraveled in the humid, coal-choked air of the Ironworks District, where the sky was perpetually bruised by the exhaust of a hundred furnaces and the air tasted of rust and...
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