The Faded Ruin
The smoke did not rise; it crawled, a thick, oily sludge that choked the sky over Harrowgate and settled into the pores of the skin, tasting of sulfur and burnt copper. Silas Vane stood on the precipice of his warehouse district, watching the town dissolve into a gray, suffocating fog, the air so heavy with particulate soot that it felt like breathing in wet ash. For twenty years, Silas had...
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