The Golden Oath
The smoke did not rise so much as it fell, a heavy, sulfurous grey blanket that settled over the industrial district of Oakhaven, pressing against the soot-stained windows of the town hall with a silent, suffocating weight. It was the smell of the old days, the time before the great refinery had swallowed the river and the air had turned thick with the taste of iron and regret. Elias Thorne...
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