The Distant Affair
The dream had no sky. Only the grid. Endless, rusted iron lines stretching into a fog that smelled of coal and wet wool. Elias Vane stood in the center of it. His boots sank into the soft earth, but the iron did not. It hummed. A low, tectonic vibration that rattled his teeth. He knew the shape of the thing before he saw it. He always did. The knowledge was a stone in his gut. Heavy. Cold. He...
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