Just Another Struggling Writer

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having been gilded in the past, are now homes for birds and other creatures. The streets are grimy and pitted from ill use and worse maintenance, and many of the homes that line them, much to Mercy’s surprise, appear abandoned. Indeed, for a city of such considerable size, there seems to be disproportionately few residents.

It isn’t until Mercy arrives in the square that it occurs to her that she has nowhere further to go. Bereft of memory, and, perhaps more importantly, money, she might only be marginally safer within the confines of the Pale City’s walls than without. She

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