The Wistful Witness
The ledger entry was written in the last hour of the night, the ink still wet against the grain of the paper. Elias Thorne counted the hours remaining until dawn, a precise arithmetic of survival that felt heavier than the brass mechanism strapped to his back. He had twenty-six gears to align, three mainsprings to wind, and a city to save, or so the General had assured him in the cold, blue...
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