The Wistful Crossroads

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2026-08-20 16:29:35 -

The air in the valley tasted of sulfur and old rain, a metallic tang that coated the back of Silas Thorne’s throat as he stood before the iron gate of the Ministry of Civic Harmony. It was a structure of blackened steel and glass, looming over the mist-shrouded moors like a tombstone for the old world, its windows glowing with the cold, blue light of industrial precision. Silas adjusted the...

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