The Golden Downtown
The rain fell upon the city of Ashworth not as water, but as a fine, grey powder that settled into the cracks of the pavement and the crevices of the soul. Elias Thorne walked with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man carrying a burden invisible to the eye but crushing to the spine, his shoes squelching softly against the wet cobblestones that lined the narrow streets leading to the Bureau of...
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