The Faded Ruin
The city of Aethelgard did not sleep, nor did it wake; it merely breathed, a vast, rhythmic exhalation of steam and iron that rose from the foundations of the earth and settled like a shroud over the cobblestone streets. It was a place of perpetual twilight, where the sky was a bruised purple, choked by the smoke of the Foundries that had once built the nation’s prosperity and now sustained its...
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