The Wistful Ashes
The rain in Oakhaven does not wash; it accumulates. It falls as a thick, gray slurry that coats the cobblestones and seeps into the joints of your bones, a constant reminder that the city’s industry is inextricably linked to its decay. You are Elias Thorne, Warden of the Ash Guard, and for the past twelve hours, you have been standing in the queue outside the Detention Ward, holding a vial of...
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