The Faded Apartment
The soot in the Blackwood Ironworks barracks did not just coat the walls; it lived in the air, a dry, gritty suspension that settled into the creases of your skin and the corners of your eyes. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, a sergeant in the factory police, and you stand in the corner of the cramped room, your fingers wrapped tightly around a length of blue wool that has lost its...
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