The Wistful Skyline
The glass shattered not with a bang, but with a whisper that sounded like a bone snapping in the dark. Commander Elias Thorne stood in the center of the Grand Hall, his uniform immaculate, his face a mask of professional calm that did not quite reach his eyes. The chandelier above, a sprawling web of crystal and gold, lay in ruins on the marble floor. Shards glittered like fallen stars,...
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