The Wistful Skyline
Could a boy buy his sky back with ink? Rafael Echevarria stood at the counter of the pawn shop, the engagement ring on the velvet pad catching the light. He was twelve, small for his age, wearing a shirt that had been washed until it turned the color of dishwater. The air in the room smelled of old paper and the metallic tang of fear. Across from him sat Inquisitor Vane, a man whose face was a...
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