The Distant Journey
The ironworks of Ashworth and Sons did not merely exist in the valley; it consumed the sky, a jagged maw of brick and soot that stretched across the horizon like a bruise that would never heal. I stood at the edge of the perimeter, where the paved road gave way to the red clay of the foundry grounds, watching the smoke rise in thick, grey columns that defied the wind, clinging to the earth with...
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