The Golden Visit
The air in Sector 4 tastes of copper and old pennies, a metallic tang that coats your tongue and settles in the back of your throat. You are Elara, twenty-four years old, and you are bleeding from a cut on your palm where the rusted ladder bit into your skin. The vaults of the Blackwood Ironworks are not merely dark; they are hungry, a sentient industrial entity that breathes through the pipes...
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