The Wistful Mountain

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2026-08-23 18:01:47 -

The summons lay on the mahogany table, the paper cream-colored and heavy, the ink still wet where the clerk had signed it. Elias Vane did not read it. He stared at the signature, a loop of black sludge that looked like a bird caught in a wire. Around him, the banquet hall of the Imperial Foundry hummed with the clatter of silver and the low roar of men who owned the steam that powered the city....

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