The Distant Metropolis
The rain did not fall so much as it existed, a perpetual, gray mist that clung to the cobblestones of Aethelgard and seeped into the bones of those who walked its ancient, winding streets. It was a city that breathed with the rhythm of the old empire, its towers piercing the low-hanging clouds like dark fingers grasping for a sky that had long since forgotten how to be blue. In the shadow of...
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