The Distant Legend
The vibration started in the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots before it reached his ears, a low, grinding hum that seemed to rise from the very floorboards of the textile mill in Millhaven. It was November 1912, and the air inside the factory was thick with the smell of hot oil and damp wool, a sensory weight that pressed against his lungs with every breath. Elias stood at the head of the assembly...
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