The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-20 05:56:40 -

The air in the Foundry Hall did not smell of sulfur or rot, as one might expect from a place of such terrible making. It smelled of ozone and old pennies, a sharp, metallic tang that coated the back of the throat and settled deep in the lungs. Margaret stood at the center of the vast, circular floor, her boots sinking slightly into the grime that covered the stone. Above her, the ceiling was a...

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