The Faded Ruin
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the cobblestones of the old quarter into slick, black mirrors. You sat in the back of your shop, the air thick with the smell of damp wool and the metallic tang of the tools you no longer trusted. Outside, the city of Oakhaven continued its slow, suffocating rotation under the weight of the Ministry of Standards. It was a place where deviation...
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