The Pale Door
The fog in the city of Veridia did not merely settle; it invaded, a thick, grey wool that suffocated the gaslights and turned the cobblestones into slick, treacherous mirrors where the world above was only a blurred, ghostly suggestion of its own architecture. Silas Vane stood at the threshold of his workshop, a man whose hands had once been instruments of precision and whose spirit was now a...
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