The Distant Metropolis

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2026-08-20 04:18:40 -

The air in the Foundry of the High Commission tasted of copper and ozone, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias Thorne’s throat as he stood before the massive, iron-wrought gates that separated the artisan’s quarter from the sanctum of the Sovereign’s administrative corps, the heavy hinges groaning in a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate directly in his marrow. It was the year of...

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