The Golden Crossing
"Your name is on the ledger, Elias." The words hung in the smog-thick air of the Blackwood Ironworks breakroom, heavy as the iron filings that coated every surface, every breath, every soul that moved through the soot-choked corridors. Silas, the foreman, did not look up from his ledger, a thick book of leather-bound pages that seemed to absorb the dim light of the single overhead bulb. He...
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