The Faded Chronicle
The smell of burnt caramel and ozone hangs in the air, thick and cloying, as you stand before the massive, copper-clad vessel that dominates the center of the laboratory, a machine designed not for the preservation of life but for the systematic extraction of memory from the flesh of the dying, a process the Institute calls The Final Distillation which you have spent the last twelve years...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen