The Wistful Skyline
Act I "You cannot simply vanish into the fog, Ljubomir," Mayor Vasiliev whispered, his voice cracking like dry twigs underfoot, as he stepped away from the table where the ink was still wet. The gala hall at the edge of the curfew was heavy with roasted chestnuts and stale beer, but the sound of the cello section had stopped, leaving a silence that pressed against Ljubomir’s ears like cotton....
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