The Golden Downtown
The dream does not begin with light, but with the weight of the iron. You feel it in the marrow of your wrist, a cold, biting pressure that anchors you to the floor of the world, even as the world itself dissolves into a haze of violet smoke and screaming geometry. You are Sergeant Elias Thorne, or at least, your body believes it is, though your mind floats somewhere higher, detached and...
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