The Pale Shadows
The dream began with the smell of ozone and wet wool, a scent that Elara Vance had come to associate with the thinning of the veil between the living and the dead. She stood in the vast, echoing hall of the Ashworth Industrial Complex, a place of soot-stained brick and the rhythmic, metallic heartbeat of the new steam engines that churned the city’s lifeblood. In her hands, she held a simple...
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