The Pale Path
The banquet hall of the Ironworks Palace was a cavern of polished steel and gaslight, where the air hung heavy with the scent of roasted pheasant and ozone. At the center of the long, obsidian table sat Elias Thorne, the Master Artificer of the Guild, his hands resting on the tablecloth as if he were waiting for a verdict. Around him, the high council of the industrial city sat in their velvet...
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