The Pale Shadows
Act I The town of Veldt grinds its gears in the dark, a beast of iron and steam that never fully sleeps, its lungs heaving with the breath of a thousand furnaces. The air tastes of coal dust and wet wool, a grit that settles in the teeth and coats the tongue. I am Francisco Oliveira, and I am standing on the riverbank where the cobblestones are weeping black sap. The town expects me to secure...
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