The Faded Ruin
The rain in the city did not fall; it was extracted from the sky, a relentless, grey suction that turned the cobblestones of the Lower District into a mirror for the decaying world above. Elias Thorne stood at the window of his cramped study, watching the droplets race each other down the glass, a frantic choreography of entropy. He was a scholar of linguistics, a man who had once believed that...
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