The Wistful Ashes
The first thing Elias Thorne noticed was the smell, a sharp, ozone tang that clung to the back of his throat like copper filings, which was wrong because the Ministry of Civic Harmony atrium was supposed to smell of lemon polish and stale coffee, not of something burning inside the walls. He stood on the polished obsidian floor, clutching a roll of blueprints for the new Sector 9 housing block,...
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