The Faded Chronicle
The iron lung did not breathe for him; it merely held the air hostage, a rhythmic, mechanical gasp that sounded less like life and more like the groaning of a ship’s hull under a heavy sea, a sound that had become so intrinsic to the architecture of Elias Thorne’s consciousness that he could no longer distinguish the cadence of the machine from the beating of his own heart, a constant,...
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