The Wistful Show
Thorne. The name was called out by the High Artificer, a sound that cut through the grinding hum of the lower decks, sharp and cold as a chisel striking iron. You were not looking up from the schematic, your fingers stained with the black grease of the Engine’s viscera, but you felt the summons in the tightness of your jaw, in the way your breath hitched and held against your teeth. The light...
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