The Faded Road
The bell above the door did not ring. It clanged, a heavy, industrial shriek that tore through the silence of the workshop like a hook into wet meat. Elias Vane did not look up. His hands, stained with the black residue of pitch and soot, moved with the mechanical precision of a man who had long since ceased to feel the cold. He was working on a lock. Not a standard lock, but a mechanism of his...
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