The Distant Machine
The iron gate of the Hollow was not merely a barrier but a living thing, a jagged tooth in the earth’s gum, and young Elias stood before it with the taste of rust and old blood in his mouth, his fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of a sword that was too heavy for his bones, too sharp for his dreams. The air in the valley was thick with the scent of wet stone and ozone, a prelude to the...
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