The Golden Myth
The iron gate of the Foundry’s North Wing groaned under the weight of Thomas Vane’s will, a sound like a bone breaking deep inside the earth. He did not look back at the smoke rising from the smelter, nor at the faces of the men who had been working the shift before him, faces now blurred by the soot and the distance. He was a man who understood the geometry of force, the precise angle at which...
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