The Museum of Dust
The city of Oakhaven was not a city anymore; it was a graveyard of rust and grey concrete. The sky was a permanent shade of bruised purple, and the rain tasted of sulfur. Silas sat on a porch of a collapsing Victorian house, watching a single, stunted weed push its way through the cracked pavement. Silas was an immortal. He had been one of the first to receive the "Sovereign Serum" a century...
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