The Distant Machine
The mainspring is not broken, Elias. It is tired. Kael said this while standing in the doorway of my workshop, his hands tucked into the pockets of a coat that smelled of wet wool and stale tobacco. I did not look up from the escapement I was trying to force back into place. The air in the shop was thick with the scent of oil and the metallic tang of fear, a smell that had replaced the usual...
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