The Wistful Ashes
The summons came not as a shout, but as a dry, rustling sound from the intercom, a voiceless vibration that Elias Thorne felt in his teeth before he heard the words. He was thirty-two, a compliance officer in the industrial city of Oakhaven, and he wanted his promotion. The city smelled of wet coal and ozone, a scent that clung to the wool of his coat and the lining of his lungs. He opened his...
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