The Distant Metropolis
The fracture begins not with a sound, but with a coldness that settles into the marrow of your left hand, a sensation so profound it feels less like pain and more like a sudden, total eviction from your own body. You are standing in the center of the grand hall of the Ashworth estate, the air thick with the scent of damp wool, old varnish, and the faint, metallic tang of impending rain against...
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