The Distant Promise
The fog does not roll in here; it presses against the windowpane like a damp, gray hand, seeking the warmth of the room. You are Elias Thorne, a structural engineer of forty-two years, and you are standing in the rotting heart of Blackwood Hall, a place that smells of wet stone and the distinct, metallic tang of old blood. Your task is simple on paper: reinforce the failing foundation beams...
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