The Golden Crossing
The dream began with the sound of steam, a high, thin shriek that tore through the silence of the cellar like a needle through skin. Thomas Ashworth woke with his heart hammering against his ribs, the taste of iron and ozone clinging to the back of his throat. He lay in the narrow cot, the springs ticking in the cold dark, and for a long moment he could not distinguish the shadows of the room...
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