The Wistful Atlas
The morning air in the city of Veridia tasted of wet iron and burnt coal, a metallic tang that coated the tongue and settled deep in the lungs, a pervasive atmosphere of industrial decay that seemed to seep into the very marrow of the bones of those who dwelled within its grey, soot-streaked confines. Elara Vance stood at the window of her narrow apartment on the fourth floor of a crumbling...
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