The Golden Downtown
The fire did not begin with a spark, but with a scream that tore the velvet silence of the city. It was a sound that belonged to no human throat, a raw, metallic shriek that echoed off the soot-blackened spires of the Old Quarter. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the precipice, his coat snapping in the updraft of heat, watching the skyline dissolve into a bruised purple haze. He was a man who...
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