The Pale Exile
You stand in the atrium of the Sterling-Vane Financial Exchange, a cathedral of glass and steel that breathes with the cold, sterile air of high finance. It is morning, but the light here is artificial, a pale, buzzing hum that filters through the double-paned windows, stripping the world outside of its color and leaving only the sharp, metallic edges of the city. You are Thomas Bradshaw, a...
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