The Distant Metropolis
The frost had come early to the valley of Ashenbridge, settling into the cracks of the cobblestones with a silence that felt less like weather and more like a verdict. It was the season when the town held its breath, when the air turned brittle and the shadows stretched long and thin across the faces of those who still dared to walk the streets after dark. In the old days, they said, the city...
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