The Faded Ruin
1924. The air in Oakhaven tastes of rust and ozone, a metallic tang that coats the back of the throat and settles deep in the lungs, a constant reminder that the city is a machine that grinds its inhabitants as much as it produces steel. You are Elias Vane, forty years old, a senior architect whose hands are stained not with ink but with the faint, persistent residue of blood and solder, and...
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