The Faded Paradox
The rain in the city of Oram did not fall so much as it descended, a slow, grey curtain that erased the edges of the world and left only the stone. It was an ancient city, older than the kings who had ruled it, built from the bones of the earth and the dreams of men who had forgotten how to sleep. Elias Vane sat in his workshop, a cramped room on the second floor of a tower that leaned...
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