The Pale Shadows
The building did not stand so much as it hovered, a skeletal cathedral of glass and rusted steel suspended in a void that was neither sky nor earth, but a static gray haze that hummed against the skin. I sat on the edge of the top floor, my legs dangling over the precipice where the concrete had crumbled away into dust. My name is Elias Thorne, and I am the architect who built this place,...
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