The Faded Paradox
The hall smelled of wet wool and old brass. You stood in the center of the Great Atrium of the St. Jude’s Archive, a vast, cathedral-like space where the air hung heavy with the dust of centuries. Around you, the other archivists moved in a slow, ritualistic dance, their fingers tracing the spines of leather-bound volumes with a reverence that bordered on religious. You were one of them. You...
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