They were the heroes of the Citadel yesterday. Today, they were meat.I stood on the ledge outside the sewer grate. The wind from the Dregs didn't blow; it assaulted. A hot, physical wall of air slammed into me, carrying the grit of a million shattered lives. It coated my teeth instantly—a grimy film that tasted of sulfur, burning plastic, and the copper tang of old blood.My lungs expanded, welcoming the poison. My chest loosened. The clean, sterile air of the Citadel had felt like drowning. This... this choked me, but it felt like breathing.Below us, the Scrap Fields stretched out. A graveyard of giants. Mountains of rusted metal skeletons jutted from the ash dunes like broken ribs. The heat shimmering off the slag heaps distorted the air, making the horizon ripple like water.Home. The word settled in my gut, heavy and cold.Behind us, high up on the cliff face, the Citadel screamed.It wasn't a sound. It was a vibration. The sirens drilled down through the rock, traveling through
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