The City of Centsia sat beside a range of mountains called the Barr, named for their tendency to barricade attacking armies. The city itself consisted of tall buildings, the kind of buildings where you could see the first few floors from the ground and the last from the stars. The material was glass: a greenish kind of glass that made each building twinkle beautifully in the moonlight.
There were two kinds of people in the City of Centsia: the winged and the walkers. The winged were the sacred people, worshipped by all, and the walkers suffered a superfluous amount of disadvantages in their wake. There were blood sacrifices every night, sacrifices made to the winged. Every winged needed a sacrifice, every night. Of course, the ones to be sacrificed were the accused, the people who had disrupted this perfect society with their crimes.
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