The Golden Downtown
The fog did not lift so much as it dissolved, leaving the city suspended in a grey, suspended breath. You stood at the edge of the river, watching the steam rise from the grates, the heat smelling of coal and wet wool. It was a dream, or perhaps the memory of a dream, but the cold was too sharp, the biting wind too real to be mere fantasy. You were the Keeper of the Boundary, a title that...
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