The Pale Fracture
The rain in the Sector did not fall so much as it pressed down, a constant, grey weight that sat upon the shoulders of the commuters like a heavy woolen coat soaked through. It was a Tuesday, or perhaps a Wednesday, for the days in the lower districts had lost their distinction, blending into a single, unbroken stretch of grey utility. Elias Thorne walked with his head bowed, his boots slick...
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