The Faded Apartment
The ballroom of the Whitehall Estate hummed with a low, industrial thrum, a vibration that traveled up through the soles of polished leather shoes and settled in the marrow. It was a sound born of the new age, the age of coal and steam and iron, echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings where chandeliers of cut crystal cast prismatic fractures across the faces of the elite. Major Elias Thorne...
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