The Wistful Mountain
The great iron lungs of the Whitmore Sanatorium for the Consumption of the Lungs and the Soul groaned in their rhythmic, mechanical slumber, a sound that had long since ceased to be noise and had instead become the ambient texture of existence, the very bedrock upon which the fragile architecture of Dr. Elias Thorne’s life was constructed, a foundation of rusted steel and sterilized air that...
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