The Faded Apartment
The air in the atrium tasted of ozone and crushed violets, a sharp, metallic tang that coated the back of your throat as you stood before the Glass Council, the towering figures of the Arbiters casting long, distorted shadows across the polished obsidian floor. You held your breath, the rhythm of your heart a frantic, drumming thing against your ribs, while the senior Arbiter, a man whose face...
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