The Pale Path
The fog did not lift so much as it dissolved into a grey, industrial haze that tasted of copper and old rain. We walked through the underbelly of the city, a place where the gaslight flickered like a dying heartbeat and the cobblestones slicked with condensation reflected the distorted faces of the passing trams. I was a soldier of the new kind, a man of the watch, tasked with maintaining order...
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