The Faded Ruin
The rain on Oakhaven does not wash things clean; it only makes the grime slicker. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, and your bones ache with a cold that has nothing to do with the temperature. You stand before the Municipal Council chamber, the blueprints rolled under your arm, the weight of them a physical anchor against your chest. You want the funding. You need it by the first of...
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