The Golden Downtown
The rain had stopped three hours ago, but the air in the corridor still hung heavy with the metallic scent of wet stone and old dust, a smell that seemed to seep into the very fibers of Sergeant Elias Thorne’s uniform, a fabric that had once been crisp white but now carried the grey, weary patina of a man who had spent too long standing guard over things that did not wish to be guarded. He...
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