Post Office

The specious halls of the Post Office are flooded with light, and the smell of ink and sealing wax hangs in the air. Whispers of the fog can be heard in the network of pneumatic tubes, and the wind rustles through the forgotten letters scattered here and there. Why is the Post Office empty, and what kind of unmarked capsules are arriving in the tubes?

Silhouettes

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Mystical Rounds

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