The Distant Metropolis
The fog did not merely settle upon the district of Ironhaven; it inhabited it, a living, breathing membrane of grey that swallowed the jagged teeth of the chimneys and the weeping faces of the workers until the world was reduced to a singular, suffocating whisper of wet soot on the tongue. It was here, in the cellar of a condemned textile mill where the floorboards groaned under the weight of...
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