The Faded Ruin
The rain fell on the city like a gray shroud. I watched it from the window of the Spire. The glass was cold against my forehead. I pressed my cheek to it. The view was vast and dead. The skyline jagged like broken teeth. The fog swallowed the lower districts. We lived above the mist. We breathed the filtered air. The filters hummed a low, constant note. It was the sound of order. It was the...
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