Stahl-Legion: Night TerrorsIt is several months since the first maschine became part of him, and still Lars wakes screaming in the night.Lotte mocks him often for it; she mimics his ranting and frantic gasps for breath, and the others pretend they don't find it funny most of the time. He doesn't try to tell her what he sees any more, or any of them most of the time. He doesn't try to describe the visions that scald the interior of his skull: the great beasts that are neither angel nor demon, but abominations wondrous and hideous in their inhumanity. Gaping mouths, innumerable eyes, an arm for every feather and a wing for every scale, huge as skies and small as breaths. They do not speak to him, but they tell him what the universe is made of, and when he wakes he doesn't remember a thing except the fear.These are nothing new. They came before the metal sank its many little fangs into his left arm, his throat, his jaw. None of the little unpleasantries, as Doktor Herzmann calls them, came after the augmen
Stahl-Legion: Secret WingsEver since she can remember, Magda has been sure that everyone has secret wings that no one can see. She can feel hers. Invisible and airy, they make themselves known by the lightness of their absence. They belong there.The others all have theirs, too. Lars' are of old tin, balsawood and ball-bearings; small, rickety and broken, just like him, with sharp edges that can spring out and slice unwary hands deeply at the slightest provocation. Lotte's are phoenix wings: big, blinding and burning anyone who comes near, sending rolls of thunder up to the heavens every time they strike the ground. Erik's are shining silver and shards of mirrors, dazzling but dangerously smashed up and undependable. Hans' are elegantly biological, like the Italian Da Vinci's wooden gliders but living breathing parchment, and Graham's are heavy, impressive things that hint at the raw power that drive them; commanding dragon's wings. Doktor Herzmann... he keeps his hidden well, but surely they are bon
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