The Distant Cartograph
The fog did not so much as settle over the city of Oakhaven as it invaded it, a thick, sulfurous wool that choked the gaslights until they burned with a weak, jaundiced sputter, and it was into this choking grey that Elias Thorne walked, his boots heavy with the mud of the lower districts and his lungs burning with the acrid taste of coal smoke and despair, for he had just sold his last...
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