The Pale Meridian
The smoke did not merely obscure the street; it possessed a texture, a thick, oily viscosity that coated the lungs and turned the air into a physical barrier against which the human body could only press, struggle, and eventually succumb. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood in the center of the riot, his service revolver trembling in a hand that felt less like his own and more like a tool being...
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