The Distant Clue
The needle on the pressure gauge did not point to pounds per square inch. It pointed to the truth, or rather, the absence of it. I stood in the shadow of the blast furnace, the heat pressing against my chest like a physical weight, while Silas Vane stood ten feet away, his hands tucked into his pockets, his face a mask of bored indifference. The machine had screamed, a sound like tearing metal,...
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