The Eternal Ember (V-09)
The world had become a graveyard of white. The Great Frost had not come as a storm, but as a slow, inevitable exhale of the universe. In the year 1892, the cities of Europe were nothing more than frozen monuments, their spires encased in ice that never melted, their streets silent save for the howling of a wind that could freeze a man's heart in a single breath. I am Alistair Thorne, the last...
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