The Wistful Skyline
The rain did not fall so much as it accumulated in the air, a suspended mist that turned the grey morning into a bruise, soft and swollen against the horizon where the city’s jagged teeth finally surrendered to the raw, unyielding expanse of the heath. Elias stood at the edge of the trail, his breath a thin white thread unraveling into the damp, his hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of a...
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