The Void-Lighter
The rain in the District never stopped. It was a grey, chemical drizzle that tasted of copper and old regrets. Arthur lived in a room that smelled of damp wool and cheap gin, a man whose only remaining possession was a photograph of a woman named Elena, her smile frozen in a time before the world went cold. Elena had died in the Great Collapse, her lungs scorched by the atmospheric fires. But...
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