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  • Gunshot in the Cold Rain
    The rain fell on Broadway like a judgment, steady and cold and indifferent to the sins that made it necessary. Jack Coven sat in his office on the fourth floor of a building that had been something respectable once, before the neighbourhood decided that respectable didn't pay the rent. His office smelled of stale cigarettes and cheaper whiskey. The blinds were half-closed, casting horizontal...
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  • The Moonlight Requiem
    The Castle of Valerius was a place where the wind sang in minor keys and the fog never truly lifted. Victor, the last of the Valerius line, lived in the highest tower, surrounded by velvet curtains and the scent of dying lilies. He was a man obsessed with the boundary between the living and the dead, convinced that the greatest truths were only spoken in the silence of the grave. He discovered...
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  • The Last Bastion
    (V-10: Tragic Romance) Captain Julian Reed was a man of maps and mud. The year was 1916, and the Western Front was a scar across the face of Europe. The world had dissolved into a landscape of craters, barbed wire, and the smell of chlorine gas. In this wasteland, Julian was a legend. He wasn't the highest-ranking officer, but he was the one the men looked to when the sky turned black with...
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  • The Resonance of the Dying Sun
    The town of Oakhaven was a place where time seemed to have stalled. Nestled in a valley of the Swiss Alps in the late 19th century, it was a community of clockmakers and astronomers, obsessed with the precision of the heavens. But for Julian, a self-taught physicist with a mind that burned too bright for his own good, precision was a cage. Julian was dying. A wasting disease had turned his body...
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  • The jazz of fading stars
    The music was dying, and nobody wanted to admit it. Not in New York, where the music was everything. Not in Chicago, where the music was the only thing. And certainly not in Julian Ashford, who had spent the last five years composing jazz that made people dance because they were afraid of what would happen when the music stopped. It was 1925, and the city was drowning in its own prosperity....
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  • The Concrete Prophet
    The humidity of New York in August was a physical weight, a wet blanket that smelled of hot asphalt and old garbage. Kevin didn't mind the heat; it matched the friction in his soul. Three years ago, he had been the golden boy of a top-tier quantitative hedge fund, a man who could predict the movement of billions with a few lines of Python. Then, he had seen the "Ghost in the Machine"—a...
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  • The Application for Extinction
    Kevin worked in Cubicle 42 of the Department of Cosmic Finality (DCF). His job was the most prestigious and tedious in New York: he processed the "Final Request" forms. The universe was ending—a slow, bureaucratic dissolution known as the "Grand Filing." According to the cosmic laws, any sentient species wishing to be erased with dignity had to submit a Form 12-B, specifying their preferred...
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  • The Key of Prometheus
    The world of Oros was a perfect sphere of obsidian, a seamless shell that enclosed everything the inhabitants had ever known. For ten thousand years, the people of Oros lived in the Great Interior, believing that the obsidian sky was the absolute boundary of existence. To question the shell was not merely heresy; it was considered a mental illness. Kaelen was a navigator of the Void-Sails,...
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  • The Living Dead
    The Living Dead I. The Breaking Point (起势) Frank Howard died on October 14 at 3:47 AM. The coroner's certificate said "acute coal dust pneumonia with complications." The minister said "God's plan." Frank, who had been conscious for approximately forty seconds after they pulled him from the collapsed mine shaft, knew the truth was simpler: he'd been buried under six tons of rock, couldn't...
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  • The Adaptation of Keepers
    The first keeper was Joseph Ross, who arrived in America in 1938 with nothing but a suitcase and a set of wrenches. He was an Irish immigrant, the youngest of seven children from a farm in County Cork, and he had crossed the Atlantic because there was nothing left for him in Ireland. The farm had failed. His brothers had emigrated. His parents were dead. America was not a dream—it was the only...
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  • THE PATIENT FROM BELOW
    Dr. Arthur Voss could not remember how he had arrived at the hospital. This was not, strictly speaking, true. He remembered driving through Vienna on a February evening in 1896, the gas lamps casting amber pools on the wet cobblestones, the carriages bouncing over puddles that reflected the windows of the cafés where men sat drinking brandy and talking about the future of the Balkans. He...
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  • The Golden Exchange
    The ticker tape never stopped talking. That was the first thing Vincent Moretti learned on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange: the machine had opinions, and they came in the form of punched paper ribbons that fell like confetti from the ceiling of a cathedral built for a new god. He was nineteen, Irish-Italian from Hester Street, with ink on his fingers and a photographic memory that made...
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