The Wistful Skyline
The storm did not break the sky so much as it unspooled it, a violent tearing of the atmospheric membrane that left the air tasting of copper and crushed ozone, while Elias Thorne stood in the center of the vast, churning expanse of the High Plains, his hands trembling not from the cold but from a sudden, terrifying clarity that settled over him like a heavy, wet quilt. He had come here, to...
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