The Ash Chronicles
The world did not end with a bang, nor a whimper, but with a slow, rhythmic settling of grey. I am Leo, and I am the last librarian of a city that no longer has a name. New York is now a valley of salt and cinder, where the skyscrapers look like the blackened ribs of some prehistoric beast, stripped of their glass and skin. I do not remember the sky before the Ash. My father told me it was once...
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