The Pale Shadows
The invoice lay on the workbench, its edges worn soft from being folded and unfolded too many times, the ink of the date, November 14, 1893, smudged where Elias Thorne’s thumb had rested against it while he tried to remember the exact cost of the new escapement wheel. He did not look up when the door creaked, his attention fixed on the brass gear he held between his fingers, a piece so fine it...
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