The Wistful Skyline
The iron mirror shattered, not with a crash, but with a sound like a bone snapping deep inside a wet winter field, and the shards fell into the mud where they dissolved into black slush. Captain Elias Thorne did not look at the broken glass. He looked at the sky, which was not a sky, but a ceiling of swirling, bruised violet clouds that breathed with the slow, rhythmic heave of a sleeping...
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