The rain came down in sheets, smothering the city of Woodside under a curtain of cold silver. The streets glistened like a mirror of broken dreams, neon lights bleeding onto the wet pavement, twisting into distorted reflections of something once grand, now lost.

Woodside was a contradiction—a city of steel and stone, where old Nordic spires clashed against the brutalist towers of the 70s. Gothic facades stood shoulder to shoulder with concrete giants, their windows like unblinking eyes watching over a world that never slept. The rain drummed against rooftops and sidewalks, trickling down the intricate carvings of old Scandinavian churches, winding through the cracks of the past and pooling in the gutters of the present.