The Faded Dust
Act I Sven Aas was forty-two, a master dyer in the recycling level of the Stockholm archipelago colony, and the smell of the Midnight Blue vat had finally stopped being a smell and started being a voice. It was the voice of my dead brother, whispering through the rusted pipes of the sealed cellar, telling me that the recipe was perfect and that I was not. I wanted the shipping guild to accept...
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