The Wistful Saga
The rain did not fall so much as it was extracted from the sky, a grey, industrial mist that settled into the pores of the earth and the fabric of men’s coats. In the valley of the Great Basin, where the old world had surrendered to the new, the air tasted of sulfur and wet iron. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the excavation site, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the steam...
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