The Pale Fracture
The rain in the city did not fall so much as it hovered, a persistent gray mist that clung to the glass facades of the towering spires, turning the steel and concrete into a weeping monument to an order that no longer held. Elias Vane stood at the precipice of the Observation Deck, his uniform pressed to a rigid silhouette against the smog, the heavy brass buttons catching the dim, artificial...
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