The Faded Attic
The banquet was not held in a hall, but in the air itself, a vast and suspended plateau of rusted iron and dripping condensation that hung above the world like a inverted cathedral. You stood at the center of this floating bazaar, a place where the laws of gravity had merely paused to think, and around you, the machinery of an industrial dream churned in slow, oily silence. This was the Archive...
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