The Wistful Skyline
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the streets of the old city into a slick, reflective mirror of the decaying facades above, and it was in this perpetual dampness, in this suffocating embrace of moisture that seeped into the bones, that Elias Thorne found the coat. It hung on the back of a chair in the center of the room, a chair that had no...
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