The Distant Crown
The dream is not a dream. It is a schematic. You see the black iron gear turning, slow and grinding, beneath the marble of the Obsidian Hall. It is the last thing you see before the alarm sounds. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, senior structural engineer for the Crown, and you are standing in the main atrium of the Hall at 0400 hours. The air is cold, sharp with the scent of wet limestone and...
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